


The Hunger of the Void

by TheKorpswomanOfKrieg



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Cults, Gen, Horror, Investigations, Lovecraftian, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-10-13 22:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20589815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKorpswomanOfKrieg/pseuds/TheKorpswomanOfKrieg
Summary: A murder in Gloucestershire leads the Auror Department into a threat they've not encountered before, and the very limits of Harry and Ron's prowess will be stretched by the rising darkness. The blood moon is rising, and the void is hungry... C+C much desired!





	1. Cold Blood

Jon didn't like driving down country roads at the best of times, but he especially didn't like driving down them at night. While it was raining. Swearing constantly as the wind-screen wipers shot back and forth, the headlights in his truck barely illuminating a few yards in front of him, he was, in his own words, "royally fucked off."

Still, it was his lot. Driving deliveries for the Chinese takeaway in his village meant he didn't exactly get to choose his routes, and it was the only work he could do for miles around anyway. He got what he was given, and that was all he cared to do about it.

His general miserable vibe carried on all the way up this particular twisting path, grumbling and swearing under his breath as the rain hammered down, and the radio blared on with some claptrap about that poxy reality show with all the ice-skaters. "Fuckin' waste of airtime if you ask me, poxy celebrities." He'd mumble whenever he heard about it.

He'd always gotten the chills in this part of the woods. He'd delivered here before, and felt deeply unsettled every time. Hearing foxes cry, and the rustling of animals in the woods was almost enough to put him off the job, but the occupants were friendly, and, more importantly, very generous tippers. He pulled up to the gates of this rather large house, and nervously shut the car off, pulling the delivery out of the back seat and treading up the cobbled steps to this house.

He heard a few twigs snap behind him and flinched, but he was used to animals bustling about at night by now, and he paid no heed, instead focusing on getting up to the front door without tripping over and spilling the food. He found the resident already waiting, with the door open.

"Ah, 'ello there Jon! Good to see you! Oh, what's the damage this time?" Jon smiled as he got to the doorstep proper, and looked up from underneath his hood.

"Good to see you too Jethro. Oh, it's the usual. £20 and a night with your wife." Jethro, a large man in his mid sixties, with greying black hair and a bushy beard, laughed uproariously, his portly beer-belly shaking with every heave.

"Ooh, you say that every bloody time and I keep telling you, you'll be giving her back after twenty minutes. 'Ere, have £25 and keep the change. I'll tell Marie you said 'hello, yeah? See you in a couple of days?"

Jon took the money and gave the old man a wink. "'Course I will Jethro. Have a lovely dinner."

He gave a friendly wave as he walked back down the steps, but before turning fully he could swear he saw something change in the old man as he closed the door… a sudden look of fear, of panic… of apology.

He thought for a second then shook it off. "He's getting on now, poor bugger. Might be getting confused." He mumbled to himself, thumbing the notes in his pocket. He got to the car and sat down, turning it on and flicking on the light inside, pulling out his phone. Dialling the number for the Chinese, he had a short chat with the owner.

"Just dropped off Jethro's order, is that my last one for the night?"

"Yeah, Cheng went to go deliver the last one himself, he knows you want to get home."

"Aw, that's kind of him. I'm gonna come bring the money in, get dinner and then head off, is that alright Su-Lin?"

"'Course it is Jon. You want the normal chicken curry and rice?"

"Aye, that'll be lovely. I'll be back in 20 minutes or so, see you then."

Jon clicked the phone off and looked up, flinching as he noticed someone standing in the road. "Oh, fuckin' fright of my life..." He said to himself. He took a second to look at the person, studying him. He knew a few yuppie types from "that London" lived round here and went running at night… but when it's wet like this?

He took notice of a few things. The person was tall. Not just… above average, but TALL. "Blimey, he must be about seven foot somethin'..." He mumbled again, before noticing a few more things.

One, he was wearing a large, hooded robe. Alright, he knew some young-uns would wear weird shit from time to time, but robes were just fuckin' weird.

Two, his face was… blank. Not that it had no features, but he had a plain, blank expression. This started to make Jon's skin crawl, and he found himself moving back instinctively, with nowhere to go but further back into the driver's seat.

Three, his eyes were black. Not so dark that they blended, no hint of anything other than… pure darkness. And he felt something WRONG gaze into him, something not right.

Four, he had something in his hands. Both hands. In one, was a long, thin stick. This puzzled him, but the item in the other hand… a carving knife… just frightened him. He scrambled to start moving the car, but the… the THING flicked that stick, and the car went dead.

Frantically, he tried to start the car again, the engine running and chugging but failing to start every time, and the man was now just getting closer, and closer. Walking slowly, deliberately. One step at a time.

"Fuck it." Jon said to no one, and reached into the passenger's foot bay to grab the cricket bat he always brought along, and stepped out of the car, adrenaline surging. "Come on then you Lurch-looking prick! You think you're fuckin' scary do ya?"

Full of bravado, he smirked and gripped the bat tightly, ready to swing as soon as the man got close. His blood chilled as he saw the others. In the woods. All in hoods and all with those long sticks he saw in the strange man's right hand. There must have been a dozen or so, men and women, all with dark, possibly deranged looks on their faces. All with the sticks pointing in his direction

"Oh look… the Muggle has a weapon." The man… the THING said. He let out a small laugh, a derogatory, condescending laugh.

"Yeah, I do have a weapon you daft prick, and you get the FUCK away from me before I break your fuckin-"

He was cut off as the man flicked the stick again, and the bat slid out of Jon's hands, flying off into a nearby thicket, clattering harmlessly. Jon looked off to the bat as it flew away, and was frozen in shock before he snapped out and turned back to the man… who had somehow closed the gap, and was about to punch out when the man spoke.

"_Levicorpus!" _Jon felt his feet go from under him, and he was upside down, floating in mid-air. His panic rose, and he started hyperventilating, flailing uselessly in the air as the people in robes closed in from the woods, stepping onto the road. Their looks turned truly deranged, all starting to wear a smile, a smile that seemed entirely too wide.

"Now then… what shall we do?" The man said.

"The beast is hungry, Master Vincent. It will want for fresh food." One of the hooded figures called out, to a small chorus of agreement.

"Ah, yes! Thank you for reminding me Alfred. I can feel it approaching. Ooh, the beast is talking to me. The howling is coming, and..." The man… Vincent, presumably, turned to Jon, a smile revealing sharp, filed down teeth. "It only needs one human tonight."

"Remember the blood, Master Vincent!" Called out another person, this time a feminine voice.

"Ah, I almost forgot. Thank you Marianne." The Vincent-man flicked the stick in his hand again and seemed to levitate a vial out from under his robe, moving it to float and just touch Jon's forehead, who was now whimpering, pathetically.

"Please… I'm just a delivery driver. Do you want money? I can give you everything I've got… just let me get home to my mum."

"Oh, I'm afraid we don't need money Jon. And your dear mother… well, she lost her marbles long ago, didn't she? She won't remember you when you get back anyway… better to save her the trouble of learning who you are once more."

"H-how do you know my name? And how do you know about my mum?" The Vincent-man smiled again, this smile horrifyingly wide, and his cobalt-black eyes seemed to shine even in the darkness, his teeth horrible and sharp.

"Oh… call it a gift Jon. A gift from beyond."

In a single swift movement, he slashed out with the carving knife and cut Jon's throat, leaving him gasping for air as the blood poured like wine, filling the vial extremely quickly, splattering onto the floor. The Vincent-man put a stopper in the vial and hid it away in his cloak, immediately going to leave with the rest of the hooded figures.

"Your death will be quick Jon… the beast is coming. And it is very, very hungry." The Vincent-man called out as he left, letting out another condescending laugh. He faded into darkness with the rest, and Jon slowly felt the life leave him as he saw something shifting in the woods. His last sight, before the world went black, was a glimpse of something wolf-like, huge and deformed. His last words as the beast stomped out of the woods and shrieked, pouncing for him with teeth as black as the night were simply... a quiet "Bye Mum."

* * *

The sun shone through the curtains, and Harry Potter stirred in his bed, groggy and far too comfortable under the quilt to be bothered moving. He took a second or two to get his bearings and went to sit up, only to find his arm was wedged under something. Rather, someone.

"Luna, are you awake yet?" Harry prodded his fiancée gently, who let out a short mewl and turned around to face Harry, her eyes still closed and a smile firmly planted on her face.

"Oh, I've been away for quite a while Harry Potter, but if I'm 100% honest I can't really be bothered to move."

Harry chuckled and leaned in to plant a soft kiss on her forehead. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tighter, enjoying the feel of him as the sun start to rise, and more than just each other's warmth filled the room.

"How long have you got before work?" Luna drawled softly, pulling back and tracing patterns on Harry's chest, causing him to blush softly. "Ooh… um..." Harry went all flustered for a second and looked over at the clock.

"Ooh… I have to be in London for eight o'clock. It's six now."

"Perfect… gives us quite a while." Luna's voice drifted into her trademark airiness as she leaned in closer to Harry, tracing patterns on his chest still and laying kisses along his collarbone, Harry hissing quietly in soft pleasure and growing arousal.

"Ooh… oh alright then. You broke my resolve." "

Harry Potter, with me around you have about as much resolve as Mundungus Fletcher. Now shut up and kiss me."

Harry giggled again and leaned down to oblige her request, his hands starting to move down her naked form, to the small of her back.

Luna was about to trace down from Harry's chest to the 'excited' part of his anatomy when an ethereal blue terrier bounded through the door and jumped up to the foot of their bed, sitting with its head cocked at Harry.

Harry groaned in irritation as he pulled away reluctantly, giving Luna a consolation forehead kiss and mouthing "Sorry."

"_Harry. Get into work, now. It's major. __Something happened in Gloucestershire and we think it's SERIOUS Dark magic. Kingsley wants us in for a briefing, head to the Auror Office as quick as you can." _The patronus faded as quick as it came, and Harry's look became one of steel, rushing out of bed and donning his work suit as quickly as he could.

"Sorry to cut it short Luna, but Ron NEVER sends a work patronus. This is pretty bad." Luna's expression turned to one of worry, and she sat upright in bed, leaning forward.

"In Gloucestershire? That's… not far at all."

"I know… I'll fill you in as it comes. I'll send an owl, or a patronus. Whichever is quicker." Harry grabbed his long-coat and threw it around his shoulders, heading round to Luna's side of the bed and leaning down.

"I will be home tonight, but it might be late, so if you want to go stay at Dad's, go ahead and I'll apparate in when I clock off. I'm sure Xenophilius won't mind." Luna nodded sombrely and wrapped her arms around him for a tight hug, one she received in turn.

"I love you Harry." Luna leaned up and gave him a short kiss. Harry stood for a second, lost in those perfect silver eyes before replying.

"Love you too Luna." He gave her another kiss then pulled back, apparating on the spot into the Ministry. It was going to be a long day, and possibly a longer night.


	2. The Trail

Harry apparated in to the Atrium and found it uncomfortably quiet. He didn't make a habit of coming into work especially early and was more used to the morning rush than the early risers. Aside from some maintenance staff and the witches & wizards working at the front desk, it was quiet.

Harry shook his head and made a beeline for the admissions desk, flashing his Auror identification at the witch behind the desk, who simply nodded and waved him through, yawning as Harry made for the lifts. Stopping at the Ministry Munchies stand, he flipped a Galleon at the wizard running it and grabbed himself a strong cup of tea, gulping it back despite the burning and getting a cup for Ron too; they both needed the wake-up.

Finding himself in the lift, he pressed the button for Floor 2 and waited, tapping his feet until it opened up onto the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ron standing at the end of the hallway, a dark expression written across his face, pale with shock.

"Ron! Mate…" Harry reached out and handed the tea to Ron, who took it with a nod of thanks and had a long gulp, looking at the floor.

"This is something bad Harry." Ron scrunched his face up and nodded to turn the corner, heading for the briefing room. "Very, very fucking bad."

"I thought it was urgent, you never send a work patronus." Harry looked at Ron with slight worry, his face slowly starting to regain its' colour.

"I got a patronus from both Robards AND Kingsley. Christ Harry, the Minister is involved in this one. This caused some waves."

Harry furrowed his brow and took a sip from his tea, thinking to himself. "I was wondering about that… what happened?"

Ron shook his head and grimaced. "I only got the barebones of it. A Muggle bloke was found in a forest in Gloucestershire… looking like he'd been partially eaten."

"What is it? Werewolves? Some feral vampires?"

"No idea Harry… I think we're about to find out."

They both rounded the corner into the briefing room to find it packed, everyone chattering in a hushed tone and worry on everyone's face. At the head of the room stood both Minister Shacklebolt and Gawain Robards, head of the Auror Office. Kingsley, in his traditional Nigerian robes stood out against the stark white of the screen behind him, while Robards paced around in a dark pinstriped suit, stroking his black-peppered-with-grey beard worriedly.

"Harry, Ron, good to see you lads. Come come, sit down, we were just about to start." Kingsley ushered them both over and sat them down in the front row, shaking their hands and going back Robards. "Ready when you are."

Robards cleared his voice and pressed his wand to his neck. "_Sonorus. _Can I get everybody's attention please?" His Welsh lilt boomed over the room, and the chattering quietened down significantly, whispers coming from the back still.

"Thank you. Now, I wouldn't normally call you in this early, taking you away from your homes and your families at a time like this is definitely not something I'm keen on, but it's for a bloody good reason, I assure you. As young Mr Weasley told you all in his messages, there's been an… incident, in the West Country."

Ron's face went white again and he looked down at the floor, sipping his tea again to distract himself. Whatever it was that he was told, it clearly disturbed him.

"I told him the gist of it, that a Muggle was found dead in the woods near a small town, and he'd been utterly savaged. That much is certainly true. We picked up the news around three o'clock this morning through our connections in the Muggle police force and we do have some photographs of the scene, but… it's not for the faint-hearted. Hell, it's not even for the strong-hearted."

Robards flicked his wand to turn off the lights and a projector shuddered to life at the back of the room, illuminating the screen behind Kingsley and Robards with… gore. The room collectively gasped, and many turned away, bile rising in their throats. Ron was the worst affected, conjuring up a small wastebin and bringing up his breakfast.

"Thankfully, this is the only really explicit shot we have of the body as a whole. What was left of it anyway." Kingsley spoke up, putting his arms out in a gesture of calm.

"The way the poor man was savaged is indicative of a number of things. Our first suspicion was werewolves, but after talking with a few known werewolves in the area who will remain nameless, it is nothing to do with them, as they're all monitored and get their Wolfsbane Potions from a Ministry employee in the area."

Gawain grabbed a yardstick and spoke, pointing to a few key points in the mound of gore that was once a man.

"The sheer viciousness of the attack on this man lead us initially to the conclusion that this was the work of a wild beast, magical or not, until we noticed something here, at the man's throat." He indicated to a long, deep gash in the man's neck, clean in its cut, away from the rest of the body.

"The rest of the body as you could all tell has been totally and utterly mangled. But this here, this gash in the neck of the man, indicates an attack from another source, a controlled source. This isn't the result of magic, this is the result of a carving knife, plain and simple. And… Susan, can you change to the next photograph?"

The witch manning the projector nodded and slid the next photograph over, a shot of road near where the man's body lay, a large amount of dried blood on the ground. "This was believed to be where the man's throat was slashed. The pooling of the blood, makes us think that he was held in place by a curse or a jinx. Possibly by the _Levicorpus _jinx, as there seems to be no blood trailing down the front of the man's shirt, only splatter from where he was attacked, which was mainly the legs and stomach area."

"And, to our surprise, we discovered after some of our inside wizards lead a short investigation in the area that the man's truck was cursed. It had been subject to a curse that impeded the engine's ability to ignite and furthermore, we found a cricket bat in the area, just a few feet away in a nearby thicket. We thought it'd been dropped when the man was attacked, but this seemed to have been jinxed away as well, and we suspect – rather, we're all but certain, that there were wizards and witches involved in this."

"There have been disappearances in the area before, but we thought previously that it was simply a result of people going missing, as there's been no bodies found. This is the first body we've actually found, and confirms what some of us have suspected for a while. As the murder seems to have been premeditated, and indeed, we've found multiple footprints leading to and away from the area, at least a baker's dozen... there's a coven… a cult if you will."

Ron turned even whiter and looked down at the floor, wringing his hands. Harry looked over and put his hand on Ron's shoulder sympathetically, looking up at Kingsley and Robards. Robards started up again after clearing his throat.

"The activity in the area was noted before by old newspaper reports of towns in the area, and there are a handful of 'ghost towns', and some small villages where nothing much seems to have changed. The one closest to the murder, and the one that happens to be closest to the rest of the disappearances as a matter of fact, is a small town called Severnford, which is where we want some of you to start. Chase up any leads, any info you can from places locally. Even bloody folklore, or old wives tales. If you can get information from here, or from contacts elsewhere, as I know some of you have, please do."

Robards stepped back and flicked the lights back on, sighing and pinching his nose, nodding to Kingsley. Kingsley stepped forward and started to speak.

"As to the nature of the beast that attacked this man, the signs all point to it being wulfen in origin, but it seems to be… different. I know that's a very non-specific description, but it seems to be a wolf-like creature on a larger scale. The incisions made by the teeth, and presumably claws, are far larger than any wolf or werewolf. And the magic that seems to seep from the wounds isn't light, or dark. It's simply… off. It's not something we've encountered before, it seems to be magic that's primordial… ancient, and wrong. Now… confer with your partners, and decide on the course of action from here. I'll keep the Muggle superintendents in the area informed, and we'll keep you all posted."

Kingsley nodded towards Robards and stepped away, walking off down the corridor back to the lifts, rubbing the sides of his head. Robards stepped up again and spoke up once more.

"This is going to be a heavy investigation. We wouldn't normally get involved in what seemed to be a Muggle murder if it didn't seem major, but our suspicions lead us down a path we've been quietly investigating for years now, and we think we have a trail. As well as that, we know a lot of you have other cases and investigations to be working on, which you are going to continue, no doubt, but we want all of you on call in case things get hairy. I want Harry and Ron on the case as the leads, please give them assistance when you can. Thank you."

* * *

Ron and Harry sat in a private office, deep in thought and poring over the case file they'd been given at the end of the meeting. Ron had been deeply unsettled throughout it all and Harry could feel the tension pouring off of him.

"Ron, what's up?" Harry asked, concern apparent in his voice.

"Oh… nothing, honest." Ron mumbled, rifling through some more of the case notes, seeming like he was simply trying to distract himself.

"Bollocks Ron. You threw up in the bloody meeting, and you've been a bit off all day, since the patronus message this morning. This case has thrown you, and all we've heard is the start of it. What the fuck's going on?"

Ron gulped and turned to Harry, his face pale again, pushing his copy of the files away and sighing deeply. "I wasn't entirely honest with you, when I said I didn't really know what was going on. Because to be honest, I wish I didn't. There weren't just disappearances in Gloucestershire, that was just where most of them happened. There were some in Dorset and Devon too… and I watched one happen."

Harry's eyes went wide and his breath caught in his throat, and through clearing it he managed to splutter a panicked "What?!"

Ron didn't acknowledge this and kept talking. "I can remember, as a kid, when I'd go into town with Bill or Charlie, hearing about disappearances up in Gloucestershire. It wasn't country-wide, I don't think, just people going missing. But I remember one night… I was up when I shouldn't have been, I was only about eight."

He breathed in and started gently rocking the chair he was in, his eyes focused ahead. "I was sitting reading a Quidditch magazine, something about the Chudley Cannons when I heard something out the window. So, being a kid and being nosy, I look out there. I see… it was a group of people. About a dozen or so, maybe about thirteen. They had someone upside down. I thought it was just a weird party, I've seen some weird shit at wizard parties. I kept watching, and they all had their wands out pointed at him. Then… this tall bloke… this ridiculously tall bloke stepped ahead of everyone. I saw a flash in his hand… I saw a knife."

Ron looked down at his lap and twiddled his thumbs, ignoring Harry as he shuffled his chair closer, before speaking up again.

"This bloke was weird. Definitely above seven feet tall, well over. Thin, spindly. And I don't know how I could tell, but he had… black eyes. Pure black. It was like two pieces of coal were just embedded where his eyes should have been. He said something to the bloke they had… then he cut his throat. Just _whoosh_!" Ron made a sideways chopping motion with his hand, still staring down at his lap.

"He brought out a vial and collected some blood, before leading the group off, I think they all apparated. The bloke was hanging there mid-air, and I was about to shout for Mum or Dad, when I saw something. It bounded out of the forest. Moving so fast it was a fucking blur. I thought it was a werewolf until I looked at it more. It was like a wolf, yeah… but… it wasn't right. It had these… growths, all along the left side of it. It had… it had fucking antlers on its' head. It was covered in this long, wispy white fur and… the worst part was that it didn't howl."

Ron grimaced and turned to Harry. "It shrieked. It shrieked so like a human, but so inhuman at the same bloody time. It made a beeline for this bloke and that's when I ran. I was crying all the way to the foot of Mum and Dad's bed. Mum thought I had a nightmare, but Dad had been awake and heard the noises. He took it to the Ministry the day after and they asked me about what I saw. I told them. They investigated outside for a bit, then left. Not heard anything since until this morning."

"That's why they told you first, isn't it Ron?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah. Bit cruel, I thought. But at the same time, I've got the most familiarity with it. Makes a change." He laughed mirthlessly and turned to look at Harry. "This is going to be very fucking different to when we've taken on dark wizards Harry. Because that wasn't dark, what I saw. It was _wrong_."


	3. Sources

The overcast skies and soft drizzling of rain served to make Knockturn Alley more glum than it already was, and as Harry and Ron trod the rough cobblestone pathways, the darkness in the skies grew.

"Mate… what in the fuck made you come down here? Bloody scum of the earth in this part of town." Ron grumbled, pulling the hood of his cloak up over his head.

"It's that scum of the earth that has so many sources of info Ron. We won't be here long anyway, I know who I'm looking for." Harry replied, wiping some of the rain off of his glasses as they walked, before coming to a stop at the White Wyvern, the main pub of the alley.

"Oh no. Not him." Ron grimaced and walked up to the window of the pub, peering in and spotting the person he knew for sure that Harry was referring to, sitting in a booth. Sleeping. With his mouth open and flies coming dangerously close to flying in. "Not Mundungus. Please not Mundungus."

"Why not Ron? He's got us the drop on a few cases before. Plus… it's quite fun to watch him squirm."

Harry pushed the door open and held it for Ron as he went inside, nodding over to the barman and pointing at Mundungus. "How long has he been out for Elias?"

The barman shrugged and mumbled "About an hour I suppose. Oh, and don't scare him too much this time, I swear you made him shit himself before." Ron and Harry shared a smirk and went to sit down in Mundungus' claimed booth, waiting patiently for him to wake up from catching flies.

Slowly, he started to stir and open his eyes drearily. Upon noticing Ron and Harry however, they shot open and, stammering, he greeted them. "Oh my… w-what a pleasure! C-c-can I get you fine fellas a drink?"

"No thanks Dung. Afraid we can't drink on duty, as Harry and I tell you. Every time we see you in here."

Mundungus gulped and shifted his gaze between the two rapidly. "So I'm assuming this is a b-b-business call then."

Harry gave him a nod in affirmation and spoke. "You'd assume correctly Dung. We have a new case on our hands. This one is a bit… grim, unfortunately. But, considering you know some rather grim witches and wizards, we thought you might have heard some news." Harry leaned forward and fixed him with a hard look, just enough to rattle him. "Have you heard the news about that poor sod in the West Country?"

Mundungus nodded, looking down at his empty glass. "Yeah, they was talkin' about it on the wireless this morning. Said there were obvious signs of magic used on the bloke." Mundungus waved over at the barman for another drink, who shot him a dirty look and shouted "Pay your slate first you shifty twat." Prompting Ron to collapse in quiet giggles.

"With your ears kept so wonderfully close to the dirt, have you heard anyone in here talk about it? Or in the other pubs you grace with your… presence?" Harry pressed, hiding a smirk of his own.

"Um… nah, nah, nothing. Why would I know anyway? I'm in London, they're out in Gloucestershire or some cowshit county." Mundungus said defensively, stiffening up.

"Are you forgetting the time we found you in Belfast trying to pass of leprechaun gold as Galleons? Or that time you were in Newcastle waiting for a bloke with some Norwegian Ridgeback eggs?" Harry leaned in, Mundungus squirming under the withering look.

"Ooh, don't forget Harry… he forgot they hadn't run that ferry from Bergen for a few years. But, we can forgive you for that Dung, you've always been just a BIT slow on the uptake."

"We know how many pies you've got your fingers in Dung. Keep an ear out, okay? You've got people you know or… 'associate' with out that way, right?"

Mundungus nodded again. "Yeah, I know a few people out there. I'll keep an ear out, I should have a deal going on there soon. Nothing illegal, I promise!"

"Just shady, yeah Dung?" Ron leaned in, getting his own show of pressing Mundungus now.

"Yeah… just a bit shady."

Harry shifted to get out of the booth and nodded for Ron to follow, turning to leave before looking back to Mundungus. "I almost forgot. I was gonna get you a drink." Mundungus' face lit up before Harry raised his wand at the empty glass and muttered a quiet "_Aguamenti._" filling Mundungus' glass with water instead of whatever swill he had normally.

The disappointment on Mundungus' face was almost too much for Ron, and he headed out of the pub quickly, holding in his laughter. Harry smirked at Mundungus and simply waved goodbye. "You know where to find me Dung. Let me know when you have some news."

* * *

Draco Malfoy sat behind the counter of his antique shop, a cigarette in his mouth and his nose in another of his alchemical books. When you own a shop that gets a handful of people a week, you tend to get more time to yourself, as he discovered to his pleasure.

He idly flicked the page and was taking a short puff when the entrance bell rang, and he looked up to greet whoever came in, starting to say his stock "Hi, let me know if you need anything." until he spotted who it was.

"Ah… Potter and Weaselby. Been a while since I saw the pair of you together." Draco snapped the book shut and stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray, folding the corner of the page and leaving it on the counter. "And I owe this pleasure to..." Draco spotted the Auror badge pinned to both Harry and Ron's front, looking unfazed. "...business, I assume?"

"Not the first person to ask us that today Draco." Ron replied, casting a glance around the shop and tapping his foot. "Might not be the last either to be honest."

Draco held his hand out to them cordially, both Ron and Harry accepting a handshake and following Draco through to the kitchenette in the rear of the shop, following his lead as he flicked his wand to close the shop down, something he found himself doing more often than he thought.

Flicking his wand to boil the kettle, he grabbed three empty cups and dumped some loose tea leaves in the teapot, talking as he went. "So… I don't think you'd come to me unless it was about something particularly unsavoury. What is it this time? Death Eater sneezed and gave someone a cold?"

"Nah… something a bit more serious than that Malfoy. Were you listening to the wireless this morning?" Ron said darkly. The heaviness of the case was weighing on his mind, and his mood was still remarkably sour even after the afternoon's amusement with Mundungus Fletcher.

"Is this about the Muggle in Gloucestershire? Nasty business that. Don't like Muggles, probably never will… didn't bloody deserve to go out like that." Draco turned back to them and kept speaking. "And before you ask, yes, I know people out in the West Country."

"That makes this next part easier then… Do you know of anything around that area happening in the past few years? Or longer? I know you've always got your nose in a book nowadays so maybe you picked something up." Ron said, leaning back in his chair.

"I do, as it happens. I remember the disappearances a good… ooh, fifteen years ago now? I remember dad did a bit of research on it and had a book about the magic in the area. A quite old book too.." Draco took the kettle off the hob and filled the teapot, bringing it all to the table and pouring out the cups of tea. "Apparently, this is just going off of what I got from the book, there's a small, very insular magical community around the Severn Valley. Dotted in all the little villages and suchlike."

"So… around towns like Sevenford then? That was going to be the first place Ron and I looked at after we've got some information together." Harry replied, pouring some milk into his tea and stirring. "Anything you can tell us about that would be really helpful."

Draco snorted as he looked down at his cup of tea. "You know, if Dad knew I was talking to Aurors about this kind of thing he'd be apoplectic. Not for anything nefarious… but some of what he found out really chilled him. Uh… yeah, yeah, some of the community is dotted around Severnford, Brichester, Temphill, all that way."

Ron and Harry nodded, and they all sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping idly at their cups of tea. Draco broke the silence by draining his cup and pouring out another, looking over at them both with a dark expression.

"I can get you the book my Dad had, but… well, like I said, what he found really chilled him. It chilled me, to be 100% honest with you. Even..." Draco trailed off and felt a lump in his throat, clearing it before continuing to speak. "Even Voldemort thought it best to stay away."

Ron's eyes bulged out of his head at this. "Fuck me… if he wanted to steer clear it must be fucking nasty. I don't suppose he ever mentioned why?"

Draco shook his head. "No. Nothing concrete at least. Just some vagueness about how the magic there was 'not right' and it was 'unrefined and bestial'. From what I read in the books, it sounds about right. Stuff about a cult… lots of references to cycles of the moon, and blood. Motifs about being like wolves too."

Ron got a notepad and pencil out of his cloak and bullet-pointed all the information down, scratching away until he'd managed a legible list of it all. After another few minutes of silence Draco yet again broke it.

"Well, since you're both so chatty today, may as well exchange some pleasantries before the day breaks into more and more monotony. Weasley, you still with Granger?"

Ron looked up from his notes and gave Draco a puzzled look before answering. "Yeah… our third wedding anniversary coming up this year. Hoping for a baby this time next year or so."

Draco smiled weakly and sipped his tea. "That sounds… hopeful. Speaking of which… Potter, have you and the lovely Miss Lovegood set a date yet?"

Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah, she wants to get married this winter. You and Astoria are welcome to come, by the way. I promise there's going to be no Crumple-Horned Snorkacks either. Luna herself told me to pass that message on."

They all shared a small chuckle as Ron finished up the notes, and they finished their cups of tea. "Are you two on the clock for much longer today then?" Draco asked, running his finger around the edge of his tea cup.

"We're gonna put some notes in for processing, report to the office then piss off home for the evening. Gonna head in to the field tomorrow, I think. We're gonna head straight there from home and ride up." Ron replied as he put his notebook away.

Draco arched his eyebrow quizzically. "Ride up?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I started riding the motorbike Sirius left me. Ron got a hold of a decent bike as well, so we were just going to..." Harry trailed off as he noticed Draco's expression and grinned.

"I'm starting to think you two should be the ones getting married to be perfectly honest. You always were quite close for comfort."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, Hermione's said that more than once. Personally, I think she's just jealous that she can't ride a bike to be honest."

Ron and Harry got up and headed to the door, Draco following and flicking his wand to get the shutters up and unlocking everything.

"I'll post the book to the Auror Office once I've gotten home and taken care of Astoria. Sorry if it ends up being late, she's had a funny turn so I'm picking up some of the housework for her."

"Ever the domestic dream, aren't you Malfoy?" Ron smirked, before giving a wave and heading out the door, putting his hood up against the rain. Harry went to step outside as well before Draco stopped him, his expression dark once more.

"This is quite… a heavy case you've been assigned Potter. I hope you and Weaselby out there aren't in too much danger. Like I said, I'll make sure the book gets to you two tomorrow, if not at the Ministry then I'll have it sent to yours. I'll keep my ears open as well, I sometimes hear some whispers in the dark still, about what some of my old 'friends' get up to. In the mean time… keep safe. For Luna at least."

Draco patted him on the shoulder and went back behind the counter of the shop, sitting down and lighting a cigarette as Harry left. "I don't think they quite realise how dangerous this is going to be..." Draco mumbled, taking a long drag and exhaling through the nose.

* * *

Ron apparated into the hallway and kicked off his shoes, the fatigue from the day getting to him quite severely. He wandered in to the living room and found Hermione sitting on the sofa reading, a glass of wine in her hand. She perked up and rushed up to greet him, kissing him on the cheek.

"Missed you too 'Mione." Ron mumbled, kissing her on the forehead and hugging her tightly.

"Uh… Ronald? As much as I like this tight hugs I can't breathe very well." Hermione said giggling, muffled by being held against Ron's chest. Ron chuckled and pulled back, leaning down to give her a short kiss before laying down on the sofa. Hermione giggled in return and sat down, Ron leaning to lay his head in her lap.

"I feel like this case is gonna be the roughest so far." Ron sighed, stroking Hermione's hand and yawning softly. "We chased a few sources today on info and from what Harry and I can tell… it's gonna involve wolves, blood and cults."

Hermione thought for a second. "Sounds like your taste in films really Ronald." Ron snorted and playfully hit her arm. "Oh come on, you should have expected that."

"Not gonna lie… I though the same thing. But… it was like I told you this morning before I left. It… it shat me up. Quite worrying, honestly. It's definitely going to be the most DANGEROUS case."

"Well… you're not allowed to get hurt. You're just not allowed. And if a wolf covered in blood backed by a cult hurts you they'll have me to deal with."

"Yeah… If I had to choose between dealing with a scary bloody cult and you when you're angry, I think I'd prefer to deal with the cult to be honest." Ron snickered as Hermione returned the hit.

"Oh sod off Ron. Anyway… Just… ugh. Ronald, I know you're no fool, it'd take a lot to get you and Harry hurt, so be as careful as possible. I don't know why **I'm** giving that kind of advice to an Auror, and considering what we all went through… this would probably be a cakewalk."

Ron stiffened for a second and remembered that night as a child, watching the cult take the poor sod's life and that… beast… rushing out of the woods. "Yeah… a cakewalk."

* * *

Harry apparated in to the bungalow and found Luna sleeping on the sofa, snoring softly, with a note and a cold cup of tea on the coffee table. Smiling to himself, he sat down next to her and picked up the note, starting to read.

_Harry,_

_I hate to state the obvious, but if you're reading this, then I fell asleep on the sofa and you're sitting next to my sleeping body. I wanted to stay up late and finish what we started this morning before you were called away, but work was quite hectic today – we dealt with some Kneazles today and they were quite frisky, couldn't stay still!_

_Anyway, I made you a cup of tea, but I don't know if it'll be cold or not by the time you read it, so I apologise if it's cold by the time you get home but sadly I can't control the passing of time and centre it on a mug of tea to keep it warm, but I heard caffeine before bed is bad for you anyway so if you end up spilling it away I wouldn't blame you. It'd probably be for the best but if you drink it anyway because you either love me or you're thirsty after work – or both – then that's fine too._

_Love you very much_

_Luna xxxx_

_PS I heard on the radio this morning about the poor man who lost his life, but I heard it was just outside of another Muggle's house. I don't think the report made any mention of interviewing the resident, so maybe start there?_

Harry put the letter down and rubbed his chin. "Yeah… no one mentioned that." He mumbled to himself. He remembered seeing the outline of a house in the background of the crime scene photographs, but no one mentioned if that had been investigated at all. "I'll tell Ron in the morning, we can stop there on the way up to Severnford."

Harry drank the tea down in a few gulps then slowly gathered Luna up in his arms, kissing her forehead as he carried her into the bedroom and laid her down, tucking her in and smiling as she let out a few soft squeaks. Stripping off his work clothes and climbing in to bed with her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek, laying his head on the pillow and drifting off immediately. A quiet end to a long day was all he wanted. Whether it's going to be the last time for a while is… uncertain.


	4. Scene of the Crime

"Penny for your thoughts Harry Potter."

Harry looked up at Luna from resting his head on her chest, and sighed. Holding his arms around her waist and giving her a soft squeeze, he replied "I'm just… I dunno how to feel about the case. I'm really concerned from what Ron told me yesterday too. That some of the… activity happened around the town. It's made me worried for Ron and Hermione, the Weasleys… and you and Dad."

Luna kissed the top of his head as she looked up at the ceiling, rubbing his shoulder with her thumb, thinking. "You think that once the case progresses further you mean, we could all be in the firing line? All of us at risk?"

Harry nodded and pulled back, laying his head on the pillow to get eye-level with Luna. "I'd never be able to forgive myself if any of you got hurt. Hell, I got pissed off when I heard Ginny got injured at her last Quidditch match and the healers took ten minutes to get her off of the pitch."

"Aye… bit of a dereliction of duty, wasn't it? Anyway..." Luna turned to face him, and looked into his eyes, a small smile on her face. "We've got quite a considerable amount of protection around this town, the Ministry made sure of that after you and Ronald were both sworn in. And we're not totally defenceless even if that all goes down the pan… Molly Weasley has a brutal right hook."

Harry started giggling and pressed his forehead to Luna's, giving her a short peck on the lips before holding her again. "That's true. I'm just… ugh. Although, I feel like with the advice you left in the note last night, Ron and I will be able to chase a half-decent lead today, make some progress."

Luna smirked proudly and gave Harry an Eskimo kiss. "I have good ideas sometimes, don't I? Anyway… what time is it?"

Harry looked over her shoulder at the clock. "It's… just gone half-six. Ron should be here in just over an hour. Have we… got time for a shower? You know, pick up from yesterday morning?"

"As long as you don't feckin' drop me this time Harry Potter, I swear there's still some bruising down there." Luna giggled, patting Harry playfully and getting up to head to the bathroom. "I think the Wrackspurts were in your head though, your focus was on something other than holding me stably against the wall and that's very concerning indeed."

* * *

Ron sat outside the Potter-Lovegood household on his bike, tapping his boot on the road and grumbling to himself. "Bloody Harry making me bloody wait, I could have gone inside and had a round of toast by now for God's sake…"

He pulled out his notebook from the saddlebag on his bike and flicked through it, checking through the bullet points he'd made yesterday. Out of the ones he'd made, there was one that stood out to him, and it weighed on his mind since. "_Stuff about a cult… lots of references to cycles of the moon, and blood. Motifs about being like wolves too." _Draco's words rang in his head as he went over the notes again, and remembering what had happened on that night when he was eight, what he watched unfold.

His vision was glassy and unfocused when Harry and Luna stepped out of the house, and he didn't notice either until Luna walked up and wrapped him in a friendly hug.

"Good morning Ronald. Sorry for the hug without warning but you seemed distracted by the Wrackspurts so I thought I'd bring you out of it."

Ron smirked and put his notebook back in the saddlebag and gave her a hug in turn. "Cheers Luna." He furrowed his brow at the mention of Wrackspurts again, but he was marginally used to those quirks of hers by now… marginally.

Harry gave Ron a strong hug and asked "Good to see you mate. Those the notes from yesterday you were looking at?"

Ron nodded with a now-grim smile. "Yeah, just reminding myself of the shit Draco mentioned. I think it's big if it shook… Voldemort." He said with mild revulsion.

"That's what Draco told you both?" Luna asked to grim nods.

"Yeah. We're gonna have to be more careful than we thought we'd have to be, if that's the case. Still, early days on the investigation, might go quite smoothly." Ron trailed off.

"Tempting fate there Ronald, tempting fate." Luna said with a smirk, turning to kiss Harry on the cheek and heading off down the road. "I'll see you when you get home, alright sweetie?"

Harry watched her as she started skipping off, smiling widely and ignoring the amused look from Ron. "So… I can hazard a guess as to what kept you two indoors for so long while I was waiting."

Harry blushed and hid a wry smile. "Piss off Ron. Just picking up from yesterday morning when your Patronus interrupted us."

"Oh, poor you. Listen, I had a thought on the ride over. Robards and Kingsley never mentioned the muggle living down the road did they?"

"No… Luna thought the same thing actually, she thought that was weird that they weren't mentioned in any of the case notes."

Ron grinned. "Great minds think alike, you know that? He must have heard all the carnage going on outside unless he was VERY profoundly deaf. Or… he was involved."

"Assuming it's a bloke… classy."

"Oh piss off Harry. Listen, the route should take us past his house into Brichester, we can stop there and interview him, then go scope out the rest of the area. We'll head back once we've eyed out all the landmarks and we can post the info to Robards. Sound good?"

Harry nodded and sat on his motorcycle, kicking over the engine and starting up, donning his helmet. "Sounds good to me."

* * *

Ron and Harry rolled to a stop outside the house, passing by the handful of forensic investigators still at the scene of the crime. Pulling off their helmets and stashing them in their respective saddlebags, Ron nodded towards the scene.

"Pretty fucking grim still, isn't it mate? You can still see all the dried blood. Poor sod's truck is still here too. I thought they'd have tried to clear it by now."

"It's only been a few days Ron, and this is right out in the country. Probably a nightmare trying to arrange the tow truck to come out this far. You got the badges?"

Ron nodded and pulled two Gloucestershire Constabulary badges out of his pocket, tossing one to Harry and making to head up the steps before Harry grabbed his arm. "He might be quite fragile, so… we should go easy on him."

"Of course mate… just looking to chase a lead. And before you ask… I'm DS Wainwright, you're DC Cartwright."

Ron and Harry walked up the cobbled steps to the front door, and Ron took the initiative to knock as they got to the front door, clearing his throat as a large, portly man walked up and opened, giving him and Ron a look.

"Morning sir. We're with Gloucestershire Constabulary, and we were wondering if we could come in and ask a few questions?" Ron lead, donning a friendly smile and motioning to Harry.

The man looked Ron and Harry up and down, quiet and seemingly nervous. "Um… well. Alright, I suppose. I was expecting a visit from you lot anyway, since the poor sod got killed over there." He pointed over at the tented crime-scene, forensic officers milling about and making notes. "Come in sirs, come in." He lead them in to the hallway and closed the door behind them, still seemingly nervous over it all.

"Truth be told I was visited yesterday morning, but they asked about two questions and fucked off, poxy coppers. Ooh, pardon my language sirs, I just get nervous around the police."

"No need to be nervous sir, you're under no threat as long as we're here. I'm DS Andy Wainwright and this is my colleague..." Ron motioned to Harry. "DC Andy Cartwright." Ron reached out his hand for a handshake.

Taking his hand firmly, and visibly relaxing, the man answered. "I'm Jethro. Jethro Walker. Please, come in, don't want you two standing out in the hall all day now."

Ron and Harry took his lead and followed him in to the living room, Jethro pointing them both to two plush armchairs by the fireplace, a small table separating them. Ron took his seat while Harry stood, looking around the room. Very basic, very homely, he could tell pride went into taking care of it. He was smiling until he spotted a few particular ornaments in a cabinet… both in a distinctive wolven shape.

"You spotted the wolves then?" Jethro asked, standing next to Harry and peering in. "Bought them at an antique fair up in Brichester, very odd, very queer fellow selling them. Said all sorts about them being from Saxon times, but I think that weren't true, he just wanted some money."

Jethro walked back to what was seemingly his chair and sat down, reaching to grab a cup from his personal chair-side table and taking a sip of tea. "Would you two like a cup of tea by any chance?"

Ron shook his head and grabbed his notebook from inside his leathers, flipping open to a blank page. "No thank you Jethro, very kind of you to offer. Now… I am afraid we're gonna have to ask a few questions our colleagues asked you yesterday; it's just to get everything on record, we're not going to take the mick. Now… name?"

"Jethro Walker."

"Age and date of birth?"

"72, born on the ninth of August, 1947."

"Any relations or next of kin?"

"My wife, Marie. We have a daughter that lives in Wales, Jeanette."

Ron scratched all this into his notebook and mumbled a short "Excellent… so Jethro. How did you know the victim?"

Jethro sighed heavily and looked into the fireplace, then down at his hands. "He was our regular delivery driver. Marie and I both have arthritis, we can't cook quite as much as we used to, so we ordered from the Chinese place in town a few times a week. We got to know Jon quite well as well, it made it absolutely gutting to find out what happened."

"That's the curious part though Jethro. It was… right outside. Didn't you hear anything happening?" Ron pressed gently, hoping not to provoke any ire.

Jethro sighed again. "No, unfortunately. Marie and I were watching a film on telly so we were right engrossed in that until we went up to bed. We had no idea anything had happened until yesterday morning when the coppers knocked."

Ron kept scratching away as Harry peered closer at the two wolf ornaments… at least, they looked like wolves. Closer inspection made him notice a few things that were… off. They seemed to have antlers, for one, and were covered in white, wispy fur instead of a normal thick coat.

"Right, okay. That's understandable… Tell me, Jethro, has there been anything suspicious happening lately? Aside from the obvious, I mean. Have you noticed odd things and happenings around here?"

Jethro shook his head. "No, nothing really. Aside from the occasional lost rambler and those poor sods that went missing a good few years ago now. Nothing really major has happened to be honest, it's not very interesting around here, and when it is it's not for the good reasons."

Ron scratched a few more notes into his book before starting to respond. "Yes, those disappearances were dreadful. The events of Wednesday night actually provoked some of the higher-ups into looking into them a bit deeper, seeing if they're connected." Ron noticed Jethro's subtle change in demeanour at this, starting to shift nervously again. Ron pretended not to notice and continued. "We aren't sure of it ourselves, we're just considering it.

Jethro nodded and turned his head, noticing Harry still looking at the ornaments. "Your mate is one curious fella isn't he?"

Harry was still closely inspecting the ornaments as Jethro got up and stood next to him. "The thing 'bout these wolves is… well, the fella that sold them to me told me all about their history, and since you seem so… entranced, I figure I'll tell ya somethin' about 'em."

Jethro didn't notice Ron flick to a separate blank page, and his expression turning to steely focus. Harry barely noticed himself, as Jethro began to speak.

"He told me when I first picked 'em up, that they were relics from the times the Anglo-Saxons were here. I know I already mentioned this, but elaborating is probably a better idea. And… what I said about being suspicious of them was only partially true. They're old… but they ain't **quite** Saxon. See..." Jethro opened up the cabinet and carefully pulled one of them out, holding it flat in his palm.

"I was a history teacher before I retired, and my particular field were the Anglo-Saxon times, right up 'til the Norman Invasion. Some of their legends, from what I remember, did centre around wolves a lot, and the moon, they've always been connected. That was as far as I thought it went, but the bloke enlightened me a bit more. He said that when they came out this far west, they, for lack of a better phrase, 'had encounters' with local Celts. Now, these Celts were very different. They were very insular, didn't talk to any other people, and their mythology was very different to other Celtic tribes. They liked the Saxons for some reason though, and their legends… merged."

Ron had gotten up from his chair by this point, and aside from his breath catching when he took a look at the statues proper, he kept writing. Harry was still looking down, following Jethro's finger as he traced along the ornament.

"One of the oldest legends of these Celts were similar to the ones these Saxons brought over. A central myth about wolves and the moon, as per usual… but with a difference. Blood was the key theme. That 'tithes' must be paid during blood moons. They would gather blood from each member of their little community and offer it to a… horrible monster. Like a wolf, but not at the same time. These, are supposed to be effigies of those beasts. Part wolf indeed, but part… well, you can see for yourself."

Harry stood quietly, before looking up at Jethro, whose expression had turned grave. "These things have been part of folklore up and down the West Country for centuries, but people either forget, or tune them out. They've even supposed to have been sighted right down in Cornwall. The Beast of Bodmin Moor? All that hubbub about how it was meant to be a big cat?" Jethro shook his head. "Meant to have been one of these."

Ron gulped and put his notebook away. "Just for reference Jethro… the bloke who sold them to you, that fella up in Brichester... did you catch his name?"

Jethro became flustered and started mumbling to himself at this. "No, no no, I didn't. Don't even really remember what he looked like. Why do you want to know, anyway? Does it fuckin' matter when you were meant to ask about the poor fucker who died about thirty feet from my fuckin' doorstep?"

"Okay Jethro, let's calm down a little bit-" Harry started before Jethro erupted.

"No! You fuckin' coppers come in here askin' a bunch of questions and comin' in my bastard house, disturbing what little peace we get, with all those people outside checking the spot where Jon died and those weird fuckers in the robes and..."

Jethro trailed off and went white. "W-weird fuckers in robes? What weird fuckers in robes?" Ron asked, putting his hands out to show he meant no harm. "If there's suspicious activity like that, any information you can give us would be very helpful. We'll put you under no pressure though, you don't have to divulge anything if you're under extreme distress… or at personal risk." Ron made sure to slowly sound out the last part.

Jethro breathed heavily and was about to start up again, when he nodded curtly and went to grab a piece of paper and a pen, scratching out a quick note. "'Ere. There's a bloke in Temphill, he might be able to help you out. Name's John Clothier, and his apprentice Albert Young should be able to give a hand as well. Both have a lot of knowledge about this kind of thing, more than me. I can't give you any more information in case something… happens. Alright sirs?"

Harry and Ron both nodded slowly, before Jethro sighed and dropped his shoulders, feeling himself relax a bit more. "Thank you Jethro. What you've told us will really aid in our investigation. We'll most likely visit again after the weekend, just to check in and see how you are. I'm sorry for what happened just now but we'll make sure it doesn't happen again. Is that alright?" Ron finished.

Jethro nodded. "Aye. That should be alright sirs. Now… I've got to do some jobs, so unfortunately I'll have to ask you two to leave." Ron and Harry nodded, and Jethro ushered them out into the hallway then out of the front door. "This is some very dangerous ground you two are treading here. Lots of folk in the other village take these legends very seriously. Keep your eyes and ears open." He shut the door without a goodbye, leaving Ron and Harry stunned on the front step.

"Bloody hell." Ron muttered, turning to Harry. "Bloody… hell."

"It was enlightening, to say the least. And just a BIT terrifying. Come on… at least we don't really need to scope out any more. Just look for antique places in Brichester and… two blokes in Temphill. Shouldn't be too hard, should it?"

"Suppose not..." Ron trailed off and headed back down the steps, silently donning his motorcycle helmet and riding off once Harry was ready… neither of them noticing the hooded figure in the woods watching, nor the _crack _of the person apparating away.


	5. Revelations

Since riding up from Jethro's house in the mid-morning and entering Brichester, Ron and Harry had discovered one main, distinctive trait about the town.

"Fuck me this place is dull." Ron had so eloquently described it as they stopped in at a petrol station. "I think we can rule out most of the town if I'm honest, it seems a bit boring for anything involving the case."

"Yeah… only thing I think we should look out for here is the antique places, like Jethro said. We've got other towns to visit anyway, so we'll stop and have a bite to eat here after getting petrol, alright?"

Ron nodded and flicked the fuel cap off, holding the nozzle into the hole. "Sounds like a plan… Ooh, do you reckon they'll do bacon sandwiches here?"

Harry furrowed his brow. "It's a café tacked on to a bloody petrol station Ron, you'll probably get a full English." Ron grinned like an idiot and stood idly as the fuel tank on his bike filled.

"Excellent, not had anything since I left for yours this morning. Riding is bloody hungry work."

"Ron, you're always hungry. Thank Merlin you use the Ministry gym or else you'd be bigger than Professor Slughorn was."

"Oi, I'll have you know that Hermione loves my size. Granted, it helps that I have muscle instead of folds, but she's quite satisfied." Ron smirked. "We've got some news for you anyway, I'll tell you once we're inside."

Harry and Ron finished filling the fuel tanks then pulled off to the side, parking up and proceeding to head in and pay for the petrol before taking seats in the little greasy spoon café. Ordering a cup of tea each, they sat in a tucked-away booth in the corner and Ron started grinning again.

"What is it Ron?"

"Take a guess."

"I'm not doing the bloody guessing games Ron, last time we did that I got a slap from your mum for swearing at you. I swear it still stings."

"Alright… fine. I'll just give you hints then."

"Oh Ron, I swear to God..." Harry put his head in his hand as Ron snickered, mixing a spoon of sugar in his tea. "Alright, fine. Get on with it before my blood pressure spikes."

"So, Hermione and I had a chat this morning before she left for work, and she… suspects something. Something quite nice, so no worries there. She's… late."

"Late for what exactly? Work? That can't be right, she's more punctual than the cleaners."

"No Harry, I mean… 'late'. She's not had a visit from Aunt Irma for a while."

"I didn't even know she had an Aunt Irma, has she visited before?"

"Yeah… on a fairly regular basis actually, about once a month or so for a few days. She missed the most recent visit though."

Harry was just getting slightly more confused with each second, and Ron's fairly obvious teasing was starting to make him massively irritated. It took a while for it to sink in and connect the dots, Ron sitting there drinking his tea as the cogs in Harry's head turned… until his eyes went wide.

"You're fucking joking Ron." Harry mumbled. "You can't be serious. She's not… is she?"

"We suspect it, at least. She's seeing a medi-witch today at St Mungo's. If she's not, then it's no real problem, we'll keep trying. But the main news is… well, Hermione wanted to just ask this even if it turned out that we weren't expecting. She wants to get it out of the way." Ron leaned in and said with a serious expression. "She wants you and Luna to be the godparents."

Harry's smile went from ear to ear and he started chuckling to himself. "Me and Luna? Are you serious? Why us instead of George and Angelina?!"

"Because we're nowhere near as bloody close to George and Angelina, you knob. You've been mine and Hermione's best friend since that night in the girl's bathroom – fuck, that sounds seedy when I say it like that – but to be honest she didn't particularly want to pick anyone else. Since you got with Luna last year as well, she's accepted her without a bloody question. She didn't even entertain any other suggestions; as soon as the topic of godparents came up she just said "Harry and Luna.""

"Mate… I can't think of anything to say. Are you sure? I mean… I'm, well, I'm stunned. Dunno about Luna but I think she'd be over the bloody moon as well. I think she'd get really emotional actually, she's still quite anxious about everyone liking her-"

"Harry… far as we're concerned, she's family. Considering you're getting married in the future it'd be kind of bad if we didn't like her to be honest. That reminds me… you two set a date yet?"

Harry snorted and took a long sip from his cup of tea, thinking. "Not quite yet. I mean, when I got home last night she was asleep on the sofa, so I didn't particularly want to discuss setting wedding dates then. I'm thinking some time in January though ideally. She wants something quiet as well… I'd appreciate that. I'm worried though."

"About what exactly?"

"About this. About… well, people have died. I'm terrified that if we dig into this that there'll be kickback and then it'll be like when we were teenagers again and people were dying left and right. These are dangerous people we're investigating Ron, and… I just don't want a repeat of last time. Even more worried since some of this shit has happened on our doorstep as well. Scared for you and Hermione, scared for everyone at the Burrow, scared for Luna and Dad… just a bit scared overall."

"Oh mate… yeah, I'm worried too. But, touch wood, it won't come to that. The Ministry made sure that anything like that will get stamped out quicker than a bloody spider when it comes in the bathroom." Ron snorted and finished off his cup of tea. "And anyway… when are you gonna call Xenophilius 'Dad' to his face?"

Harry smiled and looked down at his lap. "I was thinking on the wedding day. Gives him another nice surprise… though I think he'll just cry harder to be completely honest."

* * *

If it wasn't for the fact that Harry and Ron were 'on the clock', they'd be hugely enjoying themselves as they rode around the countryside. The rolling hills, the wonderful patchwork of the fields and their crops… it served as wonderful catharsis, forgetting the woes of both their teenage lives and the arduousness of their careers. Alas… it was their careers that were directing them on this particular ride, and thus, the mood was somewhat soured.

Having ridden up and down the Severn Valley since that morning, they had one more stop to make before they would force themselves home to write up the paperwork for the Auror Office, to Temphill, to the home of John Clothier. Directed by Jethro earlier, they didn't quite know what to expect, only that John and his apprentice Albert had "Knowledge of this kind of thing."

Following Ron's lead on their motorcycles, Harry turned with him up a dirt path just on the outskirts of Temphill, a quiet hamlet with seemingly friendly residents but a queer, unsettling aura. Many of the store-fronts along the high street were, while operational, in varying states of disrepair… the muggle recessions had reached out even this far, it seemed.

A functional, if dilapidated hotel stood firmly in the town centre, probably only used by travellers for a handful of days before the atmosphere of the town became too much. Indeed, Harry and Ron's hair stood on end throughout their ride through, and only abated as they pulled up to John Clothier's home.

"Well, seems a bit more pleasant here than the rest of the poxy town." Ron said as he turned off the bike's engine, flipping out the kickstand and stowing away his crash helmet. "It wasn't just me who was creeped out to fuck, was it Harry?"

Harry shook his head as he pulled off his own crash helmet. "No… my teeth were on edge the whole time. Don't wanna spend any more time here than we have to. Let's get on with it."

They both stepped off their bikes and strode towards the house, a neat little cottage that was well kept, putting itself apart quite solidly from the rest of Temphill. A roof of thatched straw with white brick exterior looked almost idyllic if it wasn't for the rest of the town bringing it down somewhat.

Getting to the front door, Ron turned to Harry. "Remember, I'm DS-"

"Wainwright and I'm DC Cartwright, I get it Ron. I get to be the detective sergeant next time though."

Ron snorted and knocked on the front door, hearing a muffled "On my way!" as a man, seemingly quite old and hunched over, hobbled to the front door. Hearing the locks come undone, the door opened to reveal said old man, with a neat, clipped beard, warm brown eyes and a seemingly pleasant demeanour.

"Ah, hello there sir, we're with Gloucestershire Police. I'm DS Andy-"

"Hold on." The man interrupted Ron and pointed to Harry. "Move your hair away from your forehead." Harry stood mystified for a second, and looked at Ron with his mouth open.

"Sir, can we ask why-"

"No." He interrupted Ron again. "If you're who I think you are, I think I can tell why you're here, and I might be able to help you both. Move your hair."

Harry gulped and moved his fringe away, revealing the scar on his forehead. The man donned a toothy grin and straightened up, leaning the cane against the wall. "We can dispense with pleasantries at last Mr Potter. And with the hobbling old man act. I'm John Clothier." John reached his hand out and shook both Ron and Harry's hand, pulling them in to the cottage.

Ron and Harry kept looking each other in shock and confusion, and they reached into their jeans and thumbed the hilt of their wands, immediately on guard… causing John a considerable deal of amusement.

"Oh stop it lads, you have nothing to worry about. You're probably wondering how I know who you two are, wondering if I'm a wizard or not, all that malarkey. Albert! Albert, they're here!" John shouted up the stairs, hearing the sound of what must be dozens of books falling on the floor, and a loud "Oh buggering shit!" as someone stomped around upstairs.

John snorted and lead them through to the front room and sat them down on two plain leather sofas, whipping out his wand and shutting the curtains, mumbling "You never know who might be watching..." under his breath. "Well that settles that mystery I suppose lads. My apprentice and I are both wizards, and we know why you're here."

Albert thundered down the stairs and stumbled into the room, messy brown hair down to his shoulders and resembling your average university student if a fair bit older, and started gibbering enthusiastically. "ohhelloharrypottereversolovelytomeetyouandmrweasley" he spat out, shaking their hands frantically.

"Forgive Albert… he's… oh, you young people call them fan-boys, don't you? Anyway… we know why you're here. We know what you're looking for."

"Um… how?" Harry managed to speak, Ron still stunned, and staring off into space."

"We've got eyes and ears everywhere Mr Potter, so never you mind. Now, as I understand it you've been looking into the poor soul who was tragically… eviscerated, shall we say, on Wednesday evening? And how this might be connected to various disappearances up and down the West Country?"

Harry and Ron both nodded slowly, John grinning. "Good… Mr Malfoy told us all about it in his letter."

Ron and Harry sighed in irritation and, frankly, relief, before Ron spoke up. "I get the sense that you're the bloke Lucius came to all those years ago to get that poxy book." John simply nodded and waved his wand to _accio_ a book to his hand, old and ratty.

"Yes… he found it in Malfoy Manor's library and had it sent back here. He knew, for some reason that you'd eventually come to me and he thought I'd explain a fair portion of it far better than your research would get." John sat down in his armchair and said to Albert "Get us all a cup of tea, would you?"

"Uh… J-John, surely I could help explain-" Albert began before he was cut off.

"And you will, it won't take that long to get these two up to speed. Run along." Albert shot off to the kitchen, mumbling excitedly to himself all the while. "So… your investigation has lead you down a quite dangerous path, I am sure you're both aware. What you're investigating is no mere wild animal, or serial murderer, it's a group. A very… sinister one."

Ron grabbed his notebook and started scratching down notes, earning a look from John. "I do commend note-taking on this kind of thing, so… very astute. Anyway. This group has been around the Severn Valley since the-"

"Anglo-Saxons. They met up with a group of Celts and sort of… hybridised their cultures, to put it simply? Lots of stuff about blood, moon cycles and wolves, yeah?" Ron mumbled, not looking up from the notebook, and earning another look from John, this one of pleasant surprise.

"Ah… good Mr Weasley, you've both done your research very well so far. Yes, indeed, a group of Celts and some Anglo-Saxon invaders did come together and their cultures became… as one. And since those early years, in the sixteen centuries since, their group, in a way, has survived. Through the Norman Invasion, through the English Civil War, and up to right now, they have endured. But, as I'm sure you both know, they are far from a force for good."

Albert came back in, levitating a tray of tea mugs down onto a coffee table in front of them all, and sat down in an armchair next to John. "I-I-I've been researching off and on since the f-first recorded disappearances in the fifties, and I've noticed a bit of a pattern. As I'm sure you two are aware, considering Mr Weasley's knowledge of them and the fact that he's actually got notes on the group in particular, they are… well, a cult. Can I?" Albert looked over to John and reached out for the book, who handed it over and leaned back in his chair as Albert started up again.

"There's been a few translations of the original writings, but **this** is the closest one to the original we can get without falling prey to whatever maladies this group have inflicted upon themselves. It seems that those who read the original manuscripts have had a madness enter their mind that they don't quite recover from, such is the terrible power behind it. This, is the Old English translation, made some time before the Norman Invasion. Simply… it is called the _Book of the Harvest Moon_."

Ron scratched away frantically as Harry leaned over, taking his cup of tea. Sipping quietly as Albert continued, he looked over at Ron, his focus as steely as it was this morning.

"Now, the cult have always been very secretive, so to get this is outstanding, as it's damn near the only way to learn anything solid about them. As I overhead Mr Weasley mention, they d-do utilise blood sacrifices, or 'tithes' as they're known in the book. Predominantly around the time of the harvest moon, the first after the autumnal equinox, they feel a sort of frenzy. They see it as a sign from their god, their primary deity, that they should bring an avatar of said deity, into the living world. There's no translation into English for it and the best we can come up with is… the Moon Presence."

"And it is a peculiar deity indeed. It seems to be invariably connected to the cycles of the moon, and to blood. The wolves are an addition that both the Celts and the Anglo-Saxons seemed to favour, and I feel that the force guiding this cult has capitalised on that. You see… when the stars are right, and the right sacrifices are made, something is created. Among the cult, one of its number is transformed into this wretched beast, of wolf and of man but not quite either. They are downright revered amongst the group, fawned over, but the beasts themselves lose all but the basal instincts, and a devotion to the leaders of the group."

Ron stiffened at the mention of the beasts. "They happen to have long, wispy white fur as well, don't they? And… antlers, for some reason." Albert nervously shuffled and started to reply.

"Well, they're n-not quite antlers. They're more… growths. Cancers, or tumours, if you will. The influence of the Moon Presence is such that it causes inherent corruption upon the forms of those it sees fit to 'bless'. The growths and the fur are just what it seems to favour these beasts with. If not for those then they'd easily be mistaken for simply… monstrous werewolves. Blind as a bat, they get around by instinct. The only thing they can hone out on, is blood. Willingly given or forcibly taken. The poor fellow who was attacked a few days ago? The beast certainly came."

Ron looked up and, white as a sheet, he made mention of something… something important. "When we interviewed the bloke who lived up the road from the murder… the one who mentioned you, he had… ornaments of the beasts. Two of them. Said he got them from an antique fair in Brichester."

Albert went white too, and John leaned forward, a stony expression etched on his face. "Really? Did he say who he got them from? Where in particular?" Ron shook his head as he started to reply.

"No, he only described the bloke as 'odd'. And when we pressed him, he seemed quite… disturbed. Frantic even. Wanted us out soon after we got the info from him, and he was a bit shifty towards us as soon as he thought we were coppers."

"Hmm… that's interesting. That'll be Jethro, I assume? Shame about him… massive shame. He's not been right since..." John trailed off as he looked between Harry and Ron.

"Since what John?" Harry pressed. "He's not been right since what?"

"Did he tell you he lived with his wife?" Harry and Ron both nodded, a creeping fear starting to crawl at the back of their minds, only confirmed by what John said next. "She's not been at the home for years, decades even. She gained an interest in certain subjects after their daughter flew the nest and… well..." John sighed and put his head in his hand, leaving Albert to fill in.

"She joined the cult."


	6. Warning

The relative peace of the clearing was broken by a soft _crack_, as a cloaked figure apparated in and strode with purpose towards a ruined church, hidden by overgrowth and nature. The doors to said church opened of their own volition as the person got close, and closed as swiftly when the threshold was entered. The person drew their hood down and revealed an aged but bright-eyed lady… the brightness in her eyes shining with subtle madness.

"Marianne… back so soon?" A droning, monotone voiced called out, and the man who's voice it belonged to seemed to emerge from the shadows, impossibly tall, his eyes impossibly black. "I trust your observation of your husband's was… informative."

Marianne knelt on both knees and prostrated before him, before coming back up to her feet and holding her hands behind her back. "Yes, Master Vincent. I watched the house for a good hour and expected to see nowt, but… nowt is not what I saw."

If the Vincent-man cared much for expressions, it would have been of surprise, and he approached Marianne closer, his cloak brushing along the vine and moss-covered floor, damp and almost alive. "Oh? Something more than the police officers? And of the wayward muggles that so choose to drive menially around this area?"

"Quite a bit more, Master. They were law enforcement, that much is true. But they were not muggle law enforcement. I could tell by their mannerisms. They acted the part of muggle law enforcement, from what I heard of them before and after their visit, but magic was thick in the air around them. They were aurors, Master."

Vincent said nothing as he got closer, and drew his wand from his cloak pocket. "Well. That is a surprise, to be sure. The Ministry of Magic is poking it's decrepit nose around our affairs once again. Alas… we shall temper our response. We have no need of drawing unnecessary attention to the area, unless we wish for more eyes upon us. Now… as I'm sure you know Marianne, I must see it for myself. It pains me so, but after the previous incident, I cannot risk you lying once more. Your life with Jethro is over, and your life as a daughter of the Harvest Moon is what must take priority. _Legilimens."_

Marianne shuddered as the Vincent-man entered her mind, poring through the nooks and crannies as he had before, all her doubts about the cult, her pining for her husband, the pain as she addled his mind before leaving him forever, and, at last, the wizards pulling up to her former home.

Vincent's grasp on Marianne's mind seem to release as soon as it had tightened, and she was left on the floor, dry-heaving as her memory was extracted, and cast to a pensive, which had taken the place of the baptismal font that previously inhabited the spot. "I have a distinct feeling that these two aurors will become thorns in our side. We must tread lightly; if they get too close, we must eliminate them."

He snapped his fingers and pointed to another figure in the shadows, who walked out slowly, his expression filled with reverent fear. "Yes, Master Vincent?" He said shakily, in both awe and subtle terror.

"Study Marianne's memory. As you, Nathaniel, are the most… current of our family, you may recognise them better than I. Sadly, though the face of the black-haired one is familiar, I cannot place it. Take as long as you need..."

* * *

Harry and Ron sat in John Clothier's front room, bewildered and bemused as various revelations and bits of information came to light. The elderly man they'd interviewed just this morning? Connected to, though not a member of, the very cult that they had been looking into and gaining information on.

"Wait, wait… Jethro's wife is a cult member?" Ron enquired, his brow creased in frustration and he leaned in to John and Albert, his face stony. "And he didn't think to mention this at all… is he helping them?"

Albert looking down at his feet for a second before answering. "Not intentionally, we think. John and I have kept an eye on him since it happened. He was always very skittish around her magic anyway, what with him being a muggle and all, and we suspect that she's cast a few charms to make him a little more absent than he would be otherwise. He's been made a bit more vulnerable thanks to that, and with this newest incident… ooh, oh dear..." Albert started shaking a bit, and his breathing pace quickened.

"Albert, Albert… remember the inhaler." John said slowly, turning to Ron and Harry as Albert reached into his pocket and took a puff from a pale-blue inhaler, calming slightly. "I personally suspect that she still has contact with him, manipulates him from time to time but we can't confirm that. We've been… barred from his home for quite a while. Whether it's from a subconscious urge to keep us out of harm's way or otherwise is unclear, but we've not been able to check. The cult are probably aware of Albert and I as well, but they can't find us, or rather… don't want to."

Ron went pale and looked at Harry. "We should tell the Ministry, send a Patronus message. Get more aurors down here and that. See if we can clamp down on them quick before any more happens." Ron turned back to John and Albert. "Will you two help us?"

John nodded grimly and turned to Albert, who nodded as well. "We'll work with the Ministry… well, more alongside you two. There are some dark times ahead for us. The harvest moon is not far away and they'll surely be… a bit more dangerous than they are normally. Go ahead and tell the Ministry then get off home to your families, get somewhere that isn't the Severn Valley. It's likely you two are being watched, so evade their gaze as best you can."

* * *

Nathaniel gasped for air as he pulled his face from the pensieve. He hadn't needed to look for too long, to find out the identities of the two wayward aurors, and he turned to the Vincent-man, waiting expectantly with his blank expression, unsettling in its' way.

"I trust you have found out who they are Nathaniel, and remarkably quickly as well. Impressive." he intoned, barely acknowledging Nathaniel's heavy breathing.

"Yes… I recognise them. They are… for want of a better term, 'famous'. The b-black haired one… Harry Potter."

Quiet gasps shot out of everyone's mouth, except for Vincent's… whose expression stayed stony. "Ah… The-Boy-Who-Lived. I recall now. I would have thought that after his tribulations as a young child, he'd have endeavoured to stay away from looking for trouble. I thought incorrectly. And… yes, the ginger fellow is Ronald Weasley. This is intriguing. And very dangerous."

Nathaniel furrowed his brows and wiped his face dry on his robe, looking to his master in puzzlement. "Dangerous, Master? How so? They are merely aurors, and Potter seems to have been riding on past glory and coattails."

"Have you forgotten what Mr Potter and his friends managed to do aged only seventeen? Being the driving force behind the resistance to that wastrel Voldemort? That takes a certain kind of person. We are not just going to be facing aurors. We'll be facing the hardest challenge our Family has encountered so far. We should act as such, and not rely on assumptions."

He turned away from Nathaniel and swept towards the shadows, seeming to meld into them as the shadows grew, the sun starting to set as the evening drew nearer. "Get out there, spot them if you can. Deal with them. Swarm them if you must. But do not kill. Send a message. A warning, if you like. Once they are cornered, send for me."

* * *

Having sent the Patronus messages off to the Ministry and their families, Harry and Ron were sat outside John's house on their motorcycles, silently, stewing in slowly growing fear. This cult was more powerful, more sinister than they'd realised, and it started to eat at them as they sat quietly.

"Mate… this is fucked." Ron spat darkly, breaking the silence. "I knew it was gonna be rough, but this is well beyond what I thought it'd be. I thought we'd be able to crack this quick, and just get the aurors all crashing in and… ugh." Ron straddled the motorcycle and pulled his helmet on. "We need to get home. You told Luna to head to her dad's, right?"

Harry nodded as he kicked the engine over, sliding his wand into his jacket sleeve, clearly anticipating some company. "Yeah, I'm gonna leave the bike at home once we get there then apparate over. I was… scared of this happening. Didn't want them anywhere near the firing line. Fuck… yeah, we should head off, it's starting to get dark, the owls John and Albert sent should get the Ministry soon, and they'll get more people out here."

Ron nodded in agreement and kicked his engine over, both fastening the helmet straps and riding off down the country lanes and through Temphill, out into the open country. As the sun started to dip in the horizon, Harry looked over at it, smiling wistfully to himself. "Luna will probably draw that while she's at Dad's..." he said to himself, before noticing something in the sky.

Above some trees, there was a black dot, or what seemed like one at a distance, floating and seeming to turn every few seconds, until it turned in the direction of the road Ron and Harry were on, and froze. Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and he tapped the button on his helmet to turn on the helmet's Bluetooth link with Ron's. "Ron, slow down a bit and look up above that treeline."

Ron nodded and craned his head as he looked up, and thought aloud "Is that… ooh fuck." The dot zipped towards them, and grew in size until Ron and Harry could clearly see a person on a broomstick, wand raised forward and gibbering madly.

"THEY'RE HERE! CALL THE MASTER, GET ON YOUR BROOMS, THEY'RE HERE!" the figure roared and fired a few curses at Ron and Harry, narrowly missing as they accelerated off. Harry drew his wand and fired a few quick Stupefying Charms before peeling ahead and pulling up alongside Ron.

"Put out a distress call, they've fucking found us!" Harry managed to get out before some more figures on broomsticks sped out from the trees, firing curses and hexes abound and attempting to get in the way of Ron and Harry.

Ron nodded, fighting to stay calm, and pressed hard on the auror badge on his jacket, feeling it start to vibrate in pulses, in the Morse code for "S.O.S." before pulling out his own wand and casting the Expulso Curse at one pursuer's broomstick, splintering it apart instantly and throwing the rider into a tree. "Oh fuck me..." Ron grunted as he sped up.

Jets of light shot past Ron and Harry as they rode on, shouts of cultists on the cusp of madness almost lost under the howling of the wind and the throaty roaring of the motorcycle engines. "We need to either lose them or find somewhere to dig in!" Ron shouted into his helmet, flicking a few curses and hexes over his shoulder, the growing group of pursuers splitting apart as they tried to avoid the spells. "The others on call will have mobilised by now, we can't hold off all of them!"

Harry took a sharp turn to his left, his leg almost scraping against the road as he leaned, Ron hot on his heels and the cultists not far behind. "How the fuck did they find us so quick?!" Harry shouted out, firing an _Expelliarmus _at a cultist who'd managed to pull ahead, their wand flying off before they could cast a spell, and cursing as they spun to get it out of the air.

"Must have been back at Jethro's mate! I bet his wife's been keeping a watch on the bloody house since Wednesday night!" Ron shouted back, chucking out another _Expulso_ behind him, this time causing a cavity to open up in the road and debris to shower the pursuers, a handful of them coming off their brooms and thudding to the ground.

Despite taking a good few out between them, the cultists didn't stop, and if anything got more reckless and fervent in their pursuit. Many of the ones that had previous fallen off had actually managed to hop on their companions, acting as a mobile turret while their partner commandeered the broom. The frantic, gibbering one from before managed to speed up and get level with Ron and Harry, giving them a mad, frenzied grin before firing off a few curses, then peeling off to the side. "They're toying with us! We need to get in the air and fly the fuck out of here Ron!"

Ron shook his head rapidly and made another sharp turn to the right, the tyres screeching as they skidded hard. "Not a chance! We get these things flying and they can follow us anywhere! If we stay on the road we can use that to our advantage; if we go through tunnels or through the woods we can fake them out!" Ron glanced in one of the wing mirrors and saw a handful of cultists crash into each other and collapse into a field on the side of the road, scrabbling to get up and fly again.

Once more, the raving lunatic, seemingly the head of the group, sped up alongside them and threw a chain of curses at them before peeling off. "He's a right pain in the arse isn't he?" Ron shouted out, and cast a quick _Expulso_ at him, hitting him in the arm and sending him reeling off course, though he still flew… and now he seemed angry. His grin turned into a wolfish scowl, and after he seemed to heal some broken bones with a short _Episkey_, he started combo-ing his curses, keeping Ron and Harry's defences on the edge and pulling their focus from riding stably, forcing them to slow to a near halt and pull up into a lay-by to keep solid footing.

Ron and Harry stood back to back as the cultists started to swarm around them, like bees on a hornet, fighting only to defend as they were pelted with curses and hexes from all angles, the leader of the hunt high above them, his wolfish scowl still etched on his face. Harry noticed him look into the field behind them, and he held up his hand to signal the cultists to stop, but keep their wands trained on him and Ron.

"Mate… why have they stopped?" Ron swallowed and looked behind him to see Harry, shaking nervously himself. "I think it's to do with… that." Harry pointed into the field to spot a hooded man, stalking towards them slowly, impossibly tall, and flanked by a huge… bestial wolf-type creature, exactly like the statuettes they'd seen in Jethro's house. Ron noticeably clammed up, and Harry steeled himself, holding on to Ron's shoulder to reassure him, as well as himself.

"Ah… it's only twilight. Marvellous. You two fine gentlemen must be the two aurors I'd heard so much about today. The ones who'd visited our dear friend Jethro. Yes, his wife spotted you as you went in to see him." He said in a flat, emotionless voice, somehow loud but quiet at the same time. "Now… I have been brought up to speed on the pair of you. Harry Potter..." He pointed at Harry, then to Ron. "And Ronald Weasley. Truly two extraordinary wizards. I remember those years ago when Voldemort was brought down by you two and… oh yes, the lady Ronald now calls his wife, Hermione." Harry could feel Ron bristle with anger as the man mentioned Hermione.

"Mr Weasley, I can assure you no harm will come to her or the rest of your family. I can say the same for Luna and her father, Mr Potter." Harry stiffened up. "Oh… you're wondering how I know, aren't you? Some would call it Legillimency, but it's a tad stronger than that. You see..."

He gestured to the beast on his right, growling softly as it fixed Harry and Ron with a hungry, animalistic gaze. "Our father, the Hunter, who gifted us with the glory of his servant here, gifted me with the power of… insight. I can see into your eyes and see your wants, your fears, your regrets and your triumphs. I can see your psyche."

"No harm shall come to your families, in any circumstance. That is a firm promise. We do not involve those who do not wish to be involved; our only quarry when we hunt are the lonely, the solitary, and those who poke their nose too deeply." The man was now mere feet from them, and stopped walking. "That… is our form of threat. I warn you, the pair of you. Step back, let us go about our lives. Or you shall become our quarry."

Ron spoke up, his voice shaking. "But… w-why go after the innocent? Why try and bring these… things, into the world? What good can it do? And why… why kill in the first place? You've manipulated poor old Jethro into helping you with your schemes, however intentional or not! That's h-h-hideous!"

The man gave a small smile, showing the barest hint of his row of impossibly sharp teeth. "That's the thing we are always asked, when someone is aware of our nature. It's why when we hunt, we hunt without mercy. Jon, the fellow on Wednesday night… he had no one, aside from a dementia-addled mother who didn't even remember who she was any more. So we took him, like a flash."

Harry stayed in stunned silence, staring at the beast, and feeling parts of his mind attempt to unravel as he took it in. The beast wasn't just blind, like John had said… it had no eyes. It barely even had eye sockets. The way it snarled and hissed at the pair while the man talked was… almost as if it was talking itself. The wispy fur seemed ethereal in the twilight sun, and the growths on its head seemed calcified. He felt himself staring into a hungry, bestial void… and the void was staring back. He tore his gaze away. He knew if he stared any longer, even his command of Occlumency wouldn't save him.

"He wasn't yours to take! He was innocent, and people deserve to live, without fear. Without madness." Ron spat back, raising his wand once more. "We can't let you go on."

The man smiled again, and turned away, patting the beast next to him. "Run along, back home now. We shan't need you for this." The beast snarled before stomping off, almost in a huff. "I thought you'd say that Mr Weasley. So very headstrong, so very driven by what you believe to be right. Admirable, truly. But foolish." He swept his cloak around and seemed to turn into shadow, his barely corporeal body starting to float away, backwards. "Take their lives, give them no quarter." He trailed off, and spells rained down on Ron and Harry anew.

Immediately, Harry and Ron were on the backfoot, deflecting and returning spell after spell after spell. The fatigue was setting in by now, and Ron and Harry's spellslinging turned sluggish, turned tired. The hope was starting to leave the pair of them by the time the aurors arrived, and despite comprehending the spells stopping, and many of the cult being apprehended, Ron was haunted by the sight of many of them shooting off into the forest on their brooms, before passing out in a heap next to Harry, from sheer exhaustion.


	7. Reprieve

Harry stirred and softly grunted in pain, every part of his body aching as he opened his eyes. The dim, clinical lighting and the sterile white bedsheets meant one thing… he was in St Mungo's. Groaning in quiet irritation, he made an attempt to sit up, but shooting pains up his wrists stopped him, and he laid back down, wincing.

He remembered what happened before passing out. He and Ron had been pursued by rabid, fanatical witches and wizards for a few miles after leaving Temphill, pelted with curses and hexes until being forced to stop, then confronted by… what seemed to be the cult figurehead. Expressionless, almost totally emotionless and impossibly tall, almost eight feet… flanked by the beast that caused the void to stare into Harry's soul.

Two days on the case and he was already in St Mungo's. "That's got to be a new record for me and Ron…" He whispered to no one in particular, and winced as he started to try and shift is position again, shuffling so he could sit a bit more upright. Looking around the room, he noticed the clock – telling him it was 3:38am – all of the beds being empty – Ron must be relatively alright – and a form in the chair next to his bed, snoring softly.

Harry smiled, bittersweetly, and sighed. He might love the job of an auror, he might love being the one to bring down dark wizards for a living, and he definitely loved putting them in prison like they deserved, but the pain it caused Luna every time he was injured in the line of duty? Gut-wrenching, beyond belief.

"Oi… oi Luna! I'm awake." He whisper-shouted over to her, and she stirred, yawning quietly and opening her eyes, before fixing him with a look as she started to become properly aware. She tackle-hugged him, remarkably gently, and planted a kiss on his forehead before sitting back down and linking her hand with his.

"You're an arsehole Harry Potter." She said in faux-annoyance. "You were meant to be back at Daddy's by 9pm! And instead you go and get yourself injured and sent here. Thank goodness the aurors came and told us where you were. You owe me a mushy peas and chips for your rudeness."

Harry sorely wanted to laugh but was scared of cracking a rib, so he settled for squeezing her hand affectionately and smirking at her. "Sorry 'bout that. Got into a spot of bother, as you could probably tell." He slowly lifted her hand up to his lips and kissed it, before laying his head back onto the pillow and turning to face her. "Yesterday was fucking horrible."

Luna pulled her chair around and wrapped her other hand around his, stroking it with her thumb. "I know, Ronald told me when Daddy and I arrived last night. You both got hammered with spells after you passed out… but you bore the brunt of it. The medi-witches and medi-wizards had to cut you out of your riding leathers to heal you." Harry hissed in mild irritation.

"Are the bikes okay? Is Ron okay?"

"Aye… Ronald got up at the scene and made sure they got home safe. He was here for a few hours then he went off to the Ministry, his face was like thunder. Probably royally pissed off about how low this case has been on the feckin' radar for years."

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. Ron had shown himself to be the more brute-force out of the two, and Harry wished he had it in him; he couldn't deny how effective it was, especially in a job like theirs.

"I'm sorry sweets. I really am. I know I say it every time I get put in here, but I really am sorry. It's-"

"Part and parcel of the job. I know sweetheart. You're doing good for the world, however dangerous it is, I can't ever be resentful of that. Don't EVER think you have to apologise for that, alright? Anyway… you should get back to sleep. Rest, and all that."

Harry reluctantly nodded. "Yeah… probably a good idea. The doctors can fill me in tomorrow about everything, and Ron probably wants a word when he knows I'm alright. In the meantime..." Harry pulled the bedsheets back carefully and made some space. "Come and get comfortable. The nurses found it cute last time."

Luna blushed and complied, slipping off her dressing gown to reveal her pyjamas and sliding up into bed with him. Her slipping into bed when he was at St Mungo's had become routine by now, the nurses even accommodating by getting Harry a wider bed. "The nurses found it cute but the doctor was really annoyed." She whispered as he wrapped his arm around her waist, kissing her cheek.

"Luna… that wasn't the doctor, that was one of the cleaners. And you were eating crisps in bed. You don't even do that at home."

"…shut up, Harry Potter."

* * *

After being thoroughly examined and checked over by the nurses and doctors on staff, as well as assurances via Patronus that Ron would visit Harry at home later on, Luna had taken Harry home via the Floo Network and virtually forced him to sit on the sofa and do, in her words, "Sod all." He had healing to do. No breaks, fractures or shatters that weren't healed on site thankfully, but deep and heavy bruising that left him black and blue all over his body, making it painfully uncomfortable to breathe, at best.

"_It'll be a few days before all the bruising and swelling goes down Mr Potter, so following your fiancée's advice is the best thing you can do. Do virtually nothing. Rest. I know what you aurors are like, and you'll want to get up and going straight away, but if you overexert yourself before you're fully healed I'll come and put you back in your hospital bed myself!"_

Harry contemplated the rather worrying statement from the doctor that morning, and thought it best not think about it… especially considering he was rather comfortable on the sofa, his head in Luna's lap as they idly watched muggle television, neither of them particularly wanting to move.

"I think Daddy wants to visit later. He's rather sad he didn't get to see you yesterday so he's probably going to Floo in. You don't mind do you?" Luna looked down at Harry in her lap, who shook his head slowly.

"'Course I don't. Dad knows he's welcome any time… though if he wants to watch _Blue Planet_ again I'm gonna flip my bloody lid."

Luna giggled and stroked his hair comfortingly. "Must be about nineteen times by now… I think he has it committed to memory. Ooh, he told me yesterday he might actually be able to help a bit with the case."

Harry slowly arched an eyebrow quizzically, and shifted to look up at Luna from her lap. "Really? How? He's a journalist, not a private investigator."

"He's also a translator Harry. All those features on Ancient Runes and old languages in _The Quibbler_? From his feckin' memory. Hell, when Ronald mentioned that John Clothier fellow, Daddy practically lit up. Turns out John goes to Daddy whenever he needs a translation."

"Hold on… Ron told you more about the case?"

"Mmhm. He got permission to bring us all up to speed in order to keep us safe and aware, I think Kingsley would have done it if not for him. Kingsley's sending a few more aurors on a posting down here too, in case they come after us."

The matter-of-fact way Luna said that caused Harry's heartstrings to twang, and he closed his eyes and groaned. "I fucking hate that you said that so easily. I hate that having you guys in the firing line is even a possibility. I hate that-"

"Shh… you get any more agitated and you're going to do yourself a mischief, sweetie. We've accepted it by now anyway, I'm used to it at least. You're forgetting the most important thing too… whoever wants to come after us has to go through…"

Harry smirked and let out a giggle, grunting in mild pain as he did so. "Molly Weasley and the right hook of doom."

"Good boy, you remembered well. Now, I think _The Princess Bride _is on the other channel, pass us the remote."

When Ron flooed into the Potter-Lovegood household, he expected at least to see Harry and Luna cuddled up to each other on the sofa, and his expectation there was met quite ably. He didn't expect Xenophilius Lovegood to be sitting in one of the reclining armchairs, enraptured by a nature documentary and following along with the narrator's words silently, as Harry kept shooting over annoyed looks, and Luna fought to stifle her rather incessant giggling.

What he least expected, when followed by John and Albert to go over some research, was Xenophilius to shoot up from the chair and pull John and Albert into an aggressively friendly hug and handshake. "Oh, it's been bloody years since we met in the flesh!" He'd cried.

Ron smirked at Harry sighing in relief and flicking off the TV, and rushed over to help Luna get him upright on the sofa, giving him a short hug when he was fully up. "Good to see you mate. Bruising has gone down alright. Shame about the ego though." Ignoring the rude gesture from Harry, he gave Luna a hug in greeting then sat down in a free armchair, glancing over to Xenophilius, John and Albert, already in rapt conversation.

"They wanted to come visit you, couldn't exactly say no. They've impressed me actually; we went to the Ministry and they ripped Robards a new one over the whole cult business. Threw their own case files on the whole thing down and everything. They've managed to find something out actually..." Ron trailed off as John, Albert and Xenophilius all took seats, and Luna flicked her wand to turn off the TV.

"Ah, Harry. Good to see you're still in working order after the dreadful business yesterday evening." John leaned over and gently shook Harry's hand, his grip becoming softer as Harry winced. "As young Ron here mentioned we went and… 'ripped Robards a new one'. We were not happy with how lackadaisical that whole investigation has been. Minster Shacklebolt has been VERY diligent on it though, he was just fighting through red tape."

Albert pushed his glasses back on his nose and spoke up. "W-w-we were rooting through our old notes on them last night, probably around the time you and Ron were set upon, and we did actually realise something a bit off, that I don't think we'd noticed before. We think we know where the cult might be based."

Harry's eyes widened, and he shifted very slightly to lean forward. "Really?"

Albert nodded and pulled a few sheets of paper from his pocket, unfolding them and pointing to them. "On the rare occasion they use written communication, they write in Old English. This is a written communiqué that your soon-to-be father-in-law translated for us and he made an interesting discovery when he translated it. We'd made a mistake in our cursory translations and thought they were just meeting in something to do with an ancient Greek goddess called Circe, which threw us off initially."

"I noticed this soon after you both posted it to me." Xenophilius spoke up and got up to go over to their side of the room, putting his own glasses on and peering at the letter. "This was less of an issue with the work of you two and more a problem with the original writing. They know that most people won't be able to understand it and they end up being a bit sloppy. It boils down to bad handwriting really. They really meant to write the word _cirice_, which is an Old English word for church. And by a sheer stroke of coincidence, the Severn Valley is known for being an area where Christianity didn't quite take for a time. So there's only a handful of churches in the area."

John spoke up and pulled out his own notes. "There's a church in Temphill, on High Street. But that has already been subject to a few investigations, and definitely doesn't house our cult. There's a few others in the towns surrounding, but not a lot of people know there's an abandoned church out in the woods. That's our biggest suspicion for the cult's base of activity but we can't confirm it yet."

Harry nodded and looked to Ron. "Right. That's interesting. If you can get a watch outside each church, do it. Keep it relatively light, make sure they can keep themselves hidden really well. Have any of the arrested cultists been processed yet?"

Ron shook his head. "Nothing concrete. They're all really tight-lipped. I could almost respect it if they weren't blatant shitbags. I sent off the paperwork for them to get the Veritasium treatment, should come back by Monday. Until then they're being kept in holding cells."

Harry nodded again. "Alright… that's good. I might be okay to come in by then, right now things are still a bit screwy. It's quite painful to sit up for example."

Ron snorted and hid a grin. "That's fine mate, you rest up as long as you need and I'll be in the office waiting. Was that _Blue Planet_ you were watching as I came in, by the way? Hermione's mum had me watching that ages ago."

Xenophilius perked up. "Oh it's an enchanting thing isn't it! A muggle that cares so deeply for the world, I never thought I'd see the day."

Albert grinned and joined the conversation himself. "Ah, see, I prefer _Planet Earth."_

Watching them all start to talk about the nature documentaries that made Harry question his adoration for his future father-in-law, he gave Luna a tired, irritated look that didn't fade as she started to giggle again, as if to say "I'd rather be in St Mungo's right now."

* * *

"Honestly, Luna, if Dad wants to watch documentaries every time he comes over, I'm going to leave him out in the garden." Harry said, laying down slowly in bed, wincing.

"Oh don't be mean, he's always loved that kind of thing. Think of it as bonding!" she replied as she brushed her hair, sitting at the side of the bed.

"It's **twenty** times now that we've sat through _Blue Planet_. If it wasn't for the fact that I love him to death I'd have snapped the bloody DVDs." Harry joked as he pulled the covers over himself, sinking into the mattress. "Ooh that feels good."

Luna giggled as she put her hairbrush down and sidled up to him in bed, leaning up to give him a short peck on the lips. "Maybe the Nargles will nick the DVDs in the night, I did forget to leave the mistletoe up you know."

"One can only hope..." Harry sighed, putting his arm around Luna and kissing the top of her head, smiling as he heard one of her trademark happy squeaks. "He impressed me today, actually. Had no idea he dipped his fingers into the private investigator business. Didn't even know John and Albert were PIs to be honest."

Luna nodded into his chest as she cuddled up around him. "Oh aye. Well, not quite PIs, but they did some research alongside the aurors way back when. I think it was before Fudge got in, explains why they dipped out of it for quite so long. They're good blokes. Probably sped up the case being solved too."

"Yeah… I think for that alone, they can come to the wedding." Harry chuckled, taking off his glasses and placing them on the bedside table, before getting deeper under the covers and holding Luna closer. "Cheers for being so good to me today. I know it was asking a lot but- ow!"

Luna thumped him in the chest and fixed him with a look. "Harry, if you start thanking me for something you know for a fact I'd have done anyway I'll hit you again, harder. You're not putting on me, you're not being a burden, you're injured and need to be taken care of… though probably a bit more now I've hit you."

Harry couldn't help but laugh as he rubbed the sore spot. "I suppose. I think I'm gonna need a holiday after this case… probably involving a pub crawl or five up in London."

"What, and pass out in the garden at Grimmauld Place like we did for St Patrick's Day?"

"That was your fault Luna. You're the one that handed us all that fifth round of shots, KNOWING we'd down them without any consideration for our well-being. You took advantage of our nature and for that I am grateful, that was some lovely whisky."

Their happy, still-lovestruck chatter went on late into the night until they had long since passed out in each other's arms, with nary a care in the world aside from each other, and the peace they had found as lovers and friends. It was this peace in sleep that made them unaware of a form outside, hiding in a thicket, watching… observing silently.

They knew where Harry lived.


	8. Observations

In the crypt underneath the old and rotting church, stood the Vincent-man at a standing desk, scratching away at some parchment, dipping his quill intermittently into an inkpot and huffing quietly, his expression eternally one of stone. He stopped when he heard a soft tapping at the door of the crypt, and waved his left hand behind him, willing the door open. "So… I assume you have news for me Marianne." He intoned, not looking up from the parchment.

"Indeed Master… we have news from Alfred, on his excursion to find Harry Potter. It is good news… he found Potter's house. "

Vincent stopped writing, and placed the quill down on his desk, turning around slowly with a small smile on his face. "Ah, good news indeed. 'Tis one of the drawbacks of insight… I can see into someone's psyche… but not where they seem to bloody live." He forced a quiet chuckle and closed the gap between him and Marianne, who looked down to the ground in discomfort.

"I-I'll have to take your word on that Master. Alfred's travel took him all the way to Devon… it seems Mr Potter lives in Ottery St Catchpole, not too far from his companion, Mr Weasley."

"Ooh, I remember the hunt we took just outside of there, it must be fifteen years ago now. Very good. Our efforts can be consolidated instead of spread out."

"What of the family members that were arrested on Friday evening?"

Vincent's already small smile fell, and he went back to the stoic face he showed most often. "They have their orders. The aurors will have made a bid to administer Veritasium unto them, but it shan't get that far. No information about us will escape, none that wouldn't already be known."

Marianne gave Vincent a solemn nod, reading between the lines and understanding what would happen. She went to ask Vincent something more until he put a hand up to stop her.

"I know exactly what you are about to ask Marianne. I know it's not something you would ever suggest, it's obviously Nathaniel's idea. We are NOT to hunt either of their families. Mr Potter's fiancée, Mr Weasley's wife… they are not to be even considered. Do not bring the innocent into our business. I am still deeply unhappy that you continue to manipulate poor Jethro. He wanted no part in this and you truly should have left him be."

Marianne closed her eyes in silent pain, and turned away. "I didn't want to leave him behind Master. I married him straight after I left Hogwarts and I've loved him since we were in primary school together, I couldn't leave him behind-"

"And you think the others didn't leave who they loved behind?" Vincent's words pierced her heart and her mind, his monotone laced with subtle venom. "Everyone in our Family has left behind much, all in servitude to the Moon Presence, the Hunter. And we are on the cusp of greatness. This week, the Harvest Moon approaches and we can bring an extension of Their will into this world, and show all who do not yet know of Their power. This, the first time since our forbears so many centuries ago, can TRULY bring power into this world. The stars have aligned so rightly, so perfectly. We have all forsaken our past trappings. You would do well to forsake yours."

Vincent pulled down his hood, for the first time in many a moon, to reveal his hair, long and golden brown in his youth, had turned white, thin… wispy. "I forsook my humanity a very long time ago. It is almost time for me forsake my wizardry too, and to ascend to the ranks of the clerics like my mother before me, her father before, his father before him, and so on, so far back into the annals of our history."

Vincent turned away from Marianne and looked towards the walls, makeshift shelving holding up an array of bottles, each filled with blood. "Our entire stock shall be used for this… the clerics will need their fill, and the offering shall be the excess. The excess is… plenty." His smile grew across his face again, unnaturally wide, and revealing his rows of hideously sharp and serrated teeth far more than Marianne had ever seen. The shiver up her spine was accompanied by her blood running cold, as the Vincent-man hissed, his cobalt eyes glinting in the dim light of the crypt.

"The Hunter shall come. They shall show us the next step. They shall grant us access to sights we as normal humans would never see. Where we shall ascend, where we're going… we won't need eyes to see."

* * *

Ron stood at the bathroom sink, his head hanging low. In the span of just four days, since Thursday, his and Harry's lives had gone from being no more dangerous than an average auror, to being hunted by cultists and, despite it not being concrete, watched from outside their homes.

His suspicion had been started when he went to collect his motorcycle from Harry's house the day before. After checking in on Harry and Luna, he'd started the ride home to the other side of Ottery St Catchpole, a ride he'd taken so often he even waved to people he recognised while riding. He rode, did his customary waving when it was safe, until he spotted someone. Someone he didn't KNOW per se, but recognised. And it threw him off mentally.

People came and went from the town from time to time, it was part and parcel of living in a sleepy, quiet part of the West Country, and he knew that as someone who'd lived in the West Country from birth. People moved away, wanting something more from life. People moved in, wanting some quiet away from the cities. He could normally tell at first glance. This person… he couldn't tell at all.

The man Ron spotted seemed exceptionally ordinary, and in his ordinariness he stood out like a sore thumb. In a small town, you tend to recognise people fairly well; the girl in the paper shop that Fred and George had been so taken with long ago, the lovely old couple who ran the chip shop with their granddaughter, even Luna or her dad Xenophilius passing through and sticking out yet at the same time… blending in, due to their familiarity.

Not this person. It bothered Ron all the way home, it bothered him as he hugged Hermione upon walking in the door, it bothered him as they cooked dinner together and it bothered his sleep. That's why he was here, at an ungodly early hour – for Ron on a weekend anyway – in front of the bathroom sink, thinking, and wracking his brain for an answer.

"Ron? Ron, are you alright?" Hermione stood in the doorway, her eyes bleary. "It's seven'o'clock, you don't normally get up until about half-nine." She walked up and reached out to stroke his arm comfortingly. "Something is bothering you, isn't it?"

Ron nodded and pulled her in for a tight, warm hug, sighing into her shoulder. "Yeah. You could say that. Something that happened yesterday on the way home from Harry's. Something little… but it's kept me agitated since."

Hermione pulled back with a quizzical expression on her face. "What happened? If you knocked someone's wing mirror off again-"

"No, no, nothing like that. Nah… I saw someone new in the village. Sounds like a weird thing to notice, but I was riding down the normal route home, and I saw him just before the crossing."

"Oh, on Farthing Lane?"

"Yeah, Farthing Lane. He was… weird. Stood out to me for the weirdest reason. He seemed… normal. Too normal. Like he was trying too hard to blend in. If it was London I'd have not even noticed."

"What did he look like?" Hermione pulled her wand from her pyjama pocket and _accio'_ed Ron's notepad and pencil in, flipping to an empty page… causing Ron to snort.

"First you nick my jumper, now my notepad-"

"Oh bugger off Ronald. Now, tell me what he looked like."

Ron thought for a second, sitting down on the edge of the bath. "Average height I suppose; eyeballing it, I'd say he was about five foot nine? Jeans, hoodie, trainers, normal shit. Black hair in a ponytail, shoulder length, a bit like Harry's now. And…"

"And what? Was he really shifty? Nervous body language?"

"Yeah… really shifty actually. Being nervous or anxious is one thing, but this bloke was something else. And it was really weird where he was in general… just on the corner, looking out. Pretty much looked like he was looking for someone. Or waiting."

Hermione took it all down then tore off the note, immediately rushing to find an envelope and send it to the Ministry guard posted to the town. "Honestly Ronald, you really need to talk more. If I hadn't just prodded you would you have mentioned it at all?" She grumbled, tapping on Pigwidgeon's cage and waking him up, whispering to send the letter.

"Probably only to Harry if I'm perfectly honest."

Hermione rolled her eyes and opened the window to leg Pig out, going to lay back down on the bed. "It's been twelve bloody years Ronald and I'm still doing your work for you. You're lucky I love you… prat."

* * *

Harry shuffled into the garage awkwardly, careful not to cause too much unnecessary pain. The bruising had gone down significantly from yesterday thanks to the potions prescribed by the doctor, but still left him considerably more tender than before.

"Luna, I'm just gonna give the bike a quick clean." He shouted back into the house.

"No problem… shout for me if you need a hand, I'll be in the studio."

Harry nodded to no one in particular as he looked over his motorcycle, grimacing. It wasn't in especially bad nick after Friday's 'incident' but it still gave him pause to see the mud heavily caked on to the side. Sirius would be annoyed at the very least, and he didn't particularly like that idea.

After muttering a quick _evanesco_ to get the mud off, he flicked his wand over to the garage door and opened it, letting some air into the garage. Harry squinted as the glare of the mid-afternoon sun hit his eyes, covering them with his hand to give himself time to adjust. This was enough time for the figure in the thicket across the road to pounce, and leap out.

Harry took a second to take in the sight of him, then drew his wand and immediately threw up a shielding charm, deflecting an unfamiliar but undeniably sinister-looking charm of deepest red back at him, taking advantage of that momentary distraction to shout back into the house.

"Luna! Quick, get some-" He managed before being cut off by another few curses, deflecting them all before putting the man on the backfoot himself, chaining a few jinxes together and leading him out of the garage. It was only a small mercy that Harry's bungalow was out of the way of the rest of the village, as that left him a bit more remote.

Luna heard Harry's panicked shout and ran out of her studio to check, spotting Harry duelling the assailant out of one of the windows. "Oh feck..." she mumbled before heading to the fireplace, chucking some Floo Powder in and muttering "Ron and Hermione's house" before shoving her head into the ash, coming up to a vision of their front room.

"Alright Luna, you okay-" Ron started cheerfully before she cut him off.

"Ron, get over here, quick. Harry went out to clean the bike and someone's attacked him, he's duelling out in front. I think it's someone from the cult."

Ron's expression went steely, and he nodded as he stood, immediately apparating with a soft pop to appear behind Luna in her own living room, pulling her out of the fireplace. She spluttered and coughed as she waved away the dust and ash, looking over to see Ron peering out the window and mutter a quiet "Shit..." before he ran out of the house and joined Harry.

"_Stupefy!" _he shouted as he ran out, almost catching the assailant as the man deflected a curse from Harry. "Shit! It's the bloke from Friday!"

Harry took a second to look and saw Ron was right. The man had the same crazed look that he did during the chase, the same wolfish scowl and a reckless abandon that left his spellcasting hard to predict as they all duelled.

"Unfinished business, Potter! _Confringo!" _he spat, and launched a Blasting Curse at the house. Fearing for Luna, this forced Harry to move aside and go out of his way to deflect the spell… leaving him wide open for a deft Knockback Jinx, sending Harry straight into the wall. He grinned as he heard a few cracks, turning his attention to Ron. "And as for you…"

Ron deflected a few more hexes and felt himself start to panic. Despite being a murderous lunatic, this man was an exceptional duellist. Duelling Harry to a stop rather quickly was a telling sign, and Ron frantically thumbed the auror badge in his pocket, waiting until it started vibrating in the Morse for 'S.O.S' to respond.

"You were on the street yesterday, weren't you?" Ron shouted, deflecting a few more curses. "I saw you on that street corner near the crossing. Why focus on us? Why come this far just to deal with us?!"

"_Expelliarmus!_" the man exclaimed, sending Ron's wand out his hand and into the road. Ron halted and put his hands up. "I came this far because you're both dangerously close to stopping what I and the Family have been working towards for so very long. Decades, we have waited for the stars to align for this. _Petrificus Totalus._" he wrapped Ron up in a Full-Body Bind, and grinned as Ron fell to the floor with a resounding _thud_. Doing the same to Harry, he moved towards the house and kicked the door open. "Now for the woman."

Luna heard the door being kicked open and felt her panic rise. She moved rapidly to the bedroom, and hid herself in the wardrobe, silently closing the door.

"_Remember sweets… if anything happens at home and you're in danger… get to the bedroom as fast as possible and hide in the wardrobe. My Invisibility Cloak is at the back, wrap yourself up in it."_

She replayed the advice Harry gave on the night she moved in, and moved with resolve to find the cloak. Feeling an impossibly light and soft cloth, she rapidly wrapped it around herself and ducked down, her wand drawn at the door.

She fought to keep her breathing under control as she heard him stomp around the bungalow, and closed her eyes every time he called out.

"Oh little Luna? Where are you dear? My master said I wasn't to bring any harm to Potter or Weasley's family, but I think I'll agree to disagree with him on that subject." He drawled out. From the sounds of it, he had just about reached the kitchen, and was taking his time… almost enjoying himself.

"I know all about you and your irritating fiancé Miss Lovegood. I was one of the only members of my family to stay involved in the Wizarding World… I kept my ear to the ground." He kicked at the door to the hallway, opening up and leading to the main bedroom.

"I read about when he managed to kill that wastrel Voldemort. Good riddance too. Never had any time for the 'blood purity' nonsense. What an illustrious record he has. And his little friends. Shame. I feel you could have all had potential as members of our family."

He stopped at the bedroom door and smiled, opening this one gently and peering in. "Ah… you're making me play the long game… are you Miss Lovegood?"

Luna started panting in fear as she peeked through the crack in the wardrobe door, her grip on her wand tightening, the knuckles turning white. Spotting him, something about him made her skin crawl, and while the panicked expression stayed, it turned into a scowl as well.

"I respect that. Being a member of the Hunter's Family means enjoying the long game. 'Thrill of the hunt' and all that." He made his way over to the wardrobe, past the bed and looked it up and down, opening it up.

He redrew his wand and whispered a spell… "_Hominum Revelio._" Luna's heart sank as she felt something swoop low over her, and looked up at his face as he grinned down to a seemingly empty spot.

"Humans are such easy prey." He whispered, and he made to grab for the empty spot.

At the same instant, Luna made a split-second decision, fuelled by a protective, furious, self-preserving instinct she hadn't felt since she was back in the Battle of Hogwarts. As the cloak slipped off her she kicked out at his shins and shouted "_Incarceous!_"

The man's eyes widened in shock as her foot connected with his shins, and he was barely able to react in sharp pain as ropes shot out from Luna's wand, wrapping him head to toe and binding him completely. He felt his wand snapping in half as the bonds constricted him, and was about to throw some insults before she followed up with a curt "_Stupefy!_", sending him into the wall and knocking him out cold.

She still had her wand trained on him in a hateful stare as the aurors arrived, and followed him out as the aurors took him away, gibbering madly and frothing at the mouth. She let up when she saw Harry and Ron being tended to, and moved to go sit next to Harry on the floor.

"D-did you manage that?" Ron asked her as she laid her head on Harry's shoulder, starting to shake from the adrenaline rush. She only managed a nod before she started to cry quietly, Harry wrapping her in a firm hug, turning his face to Ron.

"We've got to get them. Soon."


	9. Hit A Nerve

In Harry's mind, rage was stewing.

It had been two days since the cultist had found where he lived, and lead his would-be attack on the house. Harry had been taken out of the fight in short order, as had Ron. However, this was not what provoked Harry's ire so.

After dealing with Harry and Ron, no doubt intending to come back and finish the job, the cultist had made the mistake of hunting after Luna. Luna, who had already faced unspeakable evil during the Second Wizarding War, and stared down Death Eaters and their allies, had for the first time in many years, felt real, solid fear.

Luna, calling back to her time in the War, had been the one to disable and restrain the cultist, surprising him as he made an attempt to wrest her from her hiding place with a kick to the shins and a few jinxes. A deranged, frothing-at-the-mouth man had been bested by a slight, almost waifish young witch.

To say that Harry was proud of what Luna had managed was an understatement. But that came at a cost. After the incident, Luna, her mind fraught still with residual panic and worry, had broken down in his arms. Memories of traumas past had flashed back, once again becoming fresh in her mind. She could smell the blood, the broken stone, the scorched grass of the Battle of Hogwarts once more.

This, was what provoked Harry's mental state to one of rage. This stoked the fire in his mind and in his heart. Not that he and Ron would have faced certain death, he had been used to that feeling before. This cultist had managed to hit a nerve deep in Harry's mind, one that screamed to always protect the innocent.

After cleaning the house up and locking it up for safety, Harry and Ron made the decision to head to London and live in Harry's second home, 12 Grimmauld Place, with Luna and Hermione until the case was resolved, and everyone could stay out of harm's way.

It was in the four-poster bed in the master bedroom, underneath the heavy quilt and with Luna softly snoring in his arms, that his rage was stewing. It was stewing when he officially 'got up' that morning and had breakfast, it was stewing when he'd kissed Luna goodbye and headed into work with Ron, and it was stewing when they received the news that the cultists who had been arrested the previous Friday were found dead in the holding cells, throats torn out and heads caved in. They had managed to massacre each other, ostensibly to keep any information from getting out.

They did not factor in the other cultist being sent straight to Azkaban, where he waited in a straitjacket, chained to the floor of a dingy cell. And it was outside this cell, where Ron and Harry stood, faces like thunder… that Harry's rage was stewing.

* * *

The Vincent-man stood before the remaining members of the Family, all seated in the rotting, decomposing pews of the old abandoned church, an uncharacteristic look of displeasure on his face. He ascended the steps to the ageing pulpit, and cleared his throat.

"This past week, we have been tested, to our utmost ability. After claiming what should be the last life needed for our ritual to bring an avatar of the Hunter into this world, we have been dogged at many turns by the authority of the Ministry of Magic. The aurors Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley have in just a few days, become thorns in our side. Their digging on Friday lead to a confrontation, where, as you all saw, I bade them step back and let us continue with our lives and our journey to bring the Hunter's power to this world."

He shook his head, and continued in a lower tone, moonlight shining in his eyes of cobalt, the moon hanging low in the sky and shafts of its' light cracking through the dilapidated ceiling.

"Instead, they rebuked us, and you all tried to the best of your efforts to eliminate them, and for that, I commend you all. If it was not for the aurors coming in at the last moment, you would have surely triumphed. Many of our number was captured, regrettably, but they had their orders to follow once they were incarcerated. Their sacrifice will not be forgotten. Remember the old blood."

"Remember the old blood." The Family chorused back, bowing their heads in respect to the others who had given their lives for the secrecy to remain.

"Alas… there is one member of our family that had left his senses behind him. Alfred's excursion out to the living area of the aurors was intended to be one of surveillance. Yet, as we have all surely heard by now, it was not quite so simple. He took it upon himself to bring the aurors down, without waiting for us, without considering his own risks. And worse yet, he broke one of our sacred rules. Never involve the innocent."

His look of displeasure turned into a full scowl, baring his sharp, serrated teeth. "He sought to claim the life of Mr Potter's beloved, a young woman who did not deserve any of what Alfred had already wrought upon the couple, let alone what he wanted to do unto her. We only claim those who poke their noses around in curiosity, or those who have no one to call their own. She was neither. And she managed to turn the tables onto Alfred and have him locked away, according to Nathaniel's reports. He deserved everything he got, and everything he will no doubt receive at the hands of Potter and Weasley."

He snarled as he begun the next part, his mood souring even more. "He shall not be blessed enough to be received back into the Family, in the unlikely event he is released from his custody. If he ever returns, we shall feed him to the cleric beasts, his blood shall become the excess offering unto the Hunter. The Harvest Moon is rising this coming week, upon which we shall endeavour to bring an avatar of Their great power into this world. And this night is far more special than the others of the past. The stars have aligned so rightly, so perfectly, that we can do far more than we had ever dreamed."

The Vincent-man pulled his hood down to reveal to the rest of the Family what he had revealed to only Marianne in the week. His hair had become long, white and wispy, and two growths had started to form on his forehead, growing and calcifying in one. "I shall join the ranks of the cleric beasts, and along with the extension of the Hunter's will, we shall lead you all into another epoch, the start of the rest of humanity's ascent into the stars. We shall become one with Their will, Their power. With it we shall reach out into the void and realise the power we have been destined for from the start. We shall become gods."

* * *

In the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place, sat at the dining table with a cup of lukewarm tea in her hands, was Luna. The past few days had blurred into one, and left her with a deep-seated sense of… disquiet. For anyone, a home invasion is disquieting. Witnessing your fiancée and his best friend get soundly beaten, leaving you to hide in desperation? Unbelievably so. For the first time in six years, she had been forced to raise her wand in combat, something that she had never wanted to do again, no matter in self-defence.

The hate she had for the attacker, the bile that rose in her throat as she recalled the madness in his eyes, had haunted her nightmares for days. She was not used to feeling hatred, not even to feeling anger, and it hurt to feel those things. She drank down her cup of tea and immediately set about making another, not noticing Hermione apparating into the kitchen with a soft _pop_.

Hermione looked over to Luna and felt her heart sink. She'd grown very fond of Luna since she'd coupled up with Harry last year, and it hurt to see someone normally so carefree, so modestly optimistic, be reduced to quiet fear. She cleared her throat and set her work jacket down on a chair, smiling as Luna turned around and nodded in greeting.

"I'm home early today Luna… I thought you could use some company while the boys are at work. You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all Hermione. I warn you that my mood is a bit sour and I might snap at you if I get irritated. Sorry in advance, I've been snapping at people a lot since Sunday." Luna grabbed an extra cup and dropped a tea bag in it, waiting for the kettle to come to boil.

Hermione looked Luna up and down and felt a pang of sadness. "She can't even bring herself to get dressed..." she said internally. Indeed, she was still in bedclothes; a pair of old black pyjama pants, a ratty old Enter Shikari t-shirt and one of Harry's hoodies accompanied her tired, tormented expression. "Luna, do you want a hand?"

Luna shook her head slowly, declining to look over. "I'm fine. Thank you. It gives me something to do and to be quite honest the longer I do it the longer I can go without thinking about that mad fecker who tried to hurt us."

No matter how often Luna would speak bluntly, it always stunned Hermione when she did so, and it left her only able to respond with an "Oh… I'll sit down then." She promptly took a seat next to where Luna was sitting, and sat twiddling her thumbs until the cups of tea were finished, and Luna had placed them down on the coasters, taking her seat quickly and going back to staring at the wall, her arms folded on the table.

They sat in silence, awkward on Hermione's part, for a good ten minutes, only breaking it to take small sips from their respective cups of tea, until Hermione thought to try and spark a conversation.

"Luna… did Harry tell you about what Ron mentioned to him?" She asked tentatively, breaking the silence.

"Harry tells me a lot of things Ronald mentions to him, you might have to be more specific." Luna replied, her dreamy cadence showing in an uncharacteristic monotone, not turning from her fixed point on the wall.

"Umm… they had a chat while out at work on Friday. It was something quite important, but n-nothing bad. You know that Ron and I have been trying for a baby for a while..." Luna nodded in affirmation, still looking ahead. "Sadly… I'm not expecting. I had an appointment to check because I was 'late', but… yeah, no baby yet. Anyway… I mentioned that, once we do have a baby on the way… I want you and Harry to be the godparents."

Luna broke her gaze on the wall, and turned to Hermione with the first genuine smile on her face since Sunday morning. "I'm assuming you didn't mention this on Friday because it was all pushed to the back of your mind in the wake of Harry being put in St Mungo's?"

"You've got a habit of saying something exactly right without even needing to think, you know that?"

"I've been told that many a time. Some people think I'm a seer or something like that, or I'm an exceptionally skilled at Legilimency. Both are bollocks; I just know how to read people." She kept her small smile as she sipped her tea, the smile definitely reaching her eyes. "Thank you, by the way."

Hermione couldn't help but smile herself, and reached to hold Luna's hand. "Ron mentioned to me something Harry told him too. He said it wasn't anything concrete but he… he said you both wanted the wedding in January?"

Luna nodded slowly and smiled again, taking another sip from her tea. "Aye. I decided on a date this morning actually, after Harry left. After everything..." She made a gesture in front of her. "...that happened, I just want to get it all over with. We probably need some happiness after this week anyway. January the tenth… about a fortnight after Christmas."

"Have you told Harry yet?"

"I'll tell him when he gets home."

* * *

Harry closed the cell door behind him and glowered at the man in the corner, locking the door with a non-verbal _colloportus_. The man in the corner didn't acknowledge Harry as he closed the gap, merely looking down at the dank, barely lit floor.

"After the Second Wizarding War, Minister Shacklebolt had the dementors ejected from Azkaban. Said they were "Creatures of the darkest hearts, opportunistic and spiteful." And for the most part, I absolutely agree." Harry stepped slowly across the floor, coming to a stop in front of the prisoner.

"I disagree with him on one part though. Thoroughly." He conjured up a chair and took a seat, leaning forward to emphasise the point. "I've dealt with dementors before. I know what they do to you. They sap all the misery and joy from your life, they feed on everything positive and good in your mind. They leave you a husk. And I believe, quite firmly actually… that they are what some prisoners deserve. The really insidious prisoners. The murderers, the sex offenders, the child abusers… general shit that a dark wizard or witch would end up doing, if that makes sense."

The man in chains still didn't respond, doing nothing but breathe slowly, head hung to the floor, what little was visible of his face staying expressionless.

"You're probably wondering why I'm mentioning this to you, aren't you? Well, let's get this out of the way. You made a mistake. You made a series of them, as a matter of fact. First, you joined the deranged cult that you're in. That could have been forgiven, we all look for a place to belong in the world. Second, from what little we know of the cult itself… you seem to be somewhat high in the rankings. Or, were, as it happens. Third, you lead the assault on my colleague and I just outside of Temphill. Fourth… you attacked my home. Coming after my colleague Ron and I? I can understand. We're aurors, we're stopping you doing your job, and are generally… a bit of a pain in the arse. And I've been used to people hunting me, I had it for the first seventeen years of my life."

Harry pointed his wand at the man, lighting it up with a non-verbal _lumos_ to get a real view of his face, the long hair on the man already starting to matte and grease up. Grime and dried blood had caked on, and his eyes were sunken.

"Fifth. Ooh… the fifth mistake. Last, but absolutely not the least. You went after my fiancée. That was a very real mistake you made there my friend. Because that made me angry. Me when I'm angry, is not something you want to see. She managed to beat you, as I always knew she would, but it's not something she should have ever had to do in the first place. You came for my family… and that was the biggest mistake."

Harry pulled back and spat on the floor, still pointing his wand at the man, before starting to speak again. "But I'm not a vengeful person. However much I want to kick your teeth in, I'm not going to. Instead, I'm going to propose something to you."

The man looked up at this, his expression not changing. "Propose something? My captor, is proposing something to me? What on earth can you propose to me, Potter? What on this foul island can you offer me?"

"Nothing major, admittedly. But the rest of the auror department, my colleague Ron included, want to straight away administer Veritasium then lock you away for the rest of your life. I admit, I wouldn't mind that happening either. But I'm hoping to get a bit more out of it. Either way, you're going to be locked up, but if you take my offer, then the Veritasium won't be needed."

"What are you offering, Potter? What are the terms, what will I get out of it?"

"You know once you agree."

The man spat at Harry, phlegm hitting him in the chin. Harry simply wiped it away with a tissue and kept his glowering gaze trained on the prisoner. "Okay… sixth mistake."

Harry kicked out at the man's face and felt his foot connect hard, the man's head connecting with the wall with a resounding _crack_, and a yelp of pain erupting from the man's mouth. "Do you agree to the offer?"

"You think you can get me to agree just by kicking me in the mouth?"

"After a while, I think the pain will get too much." Harry stated matter-of-factly, and kicked out again, connecting even harder and hearing the clatter of teeth along the stone floor. "Don't worry about the teeth… I can take care of that… _Dentata Reparo_." Harry took no pleasure in hearing the man wince and grunt as the teeth shot back into his mouth, painfully aligning back with the root. "Now… do you agree to the offer?"

With regret in his eyes, the man nodded. "Fine. Do whatever you want."

Harry smiled a wry smile, and cast a spell he hadn't needed to cast since his early days of auror training, the perfect spell for gaining information… and something that unbeknownst to him, the man had been victim to enough times to count… but could never manage to protect himself from. "_Legilimens._"

* * *

In an office on the prison island of Azkaban, Ron was waiting. Harry had been beyond determined to interrogate this man himself and Ron was definitely not going to argue. The anger that had been on Harry's face when they were lying on the grass in Harry's front garden, soon after being incapacitated was there when the man was being carried out of the house, Luna's wand trained on him.

It changed to that silent anger, that quiet, burning anger when Luna had sat down on the doorstep with Harry and broke down, and it seethed behind Harry's eyes every day since. When they got permission to interrogate the bastard, Ron knew Harry would take the lead. And that was why he waited in one of the guard offices, reading the Daily Prophet - "This is last Thursday's..." - and spending entirely too much time on the crossword. It was something to do as he waited, but he needn't have waited too long.

The door to the office opened and Harry walked in, a tired but satisfied expression on his face. Ron got up and gave him a strong hug. "Well done mate. What did you get out of him?"

Harry sat down on the office's desk and pulled out a notebook, reading over the notes he'd made after pulling out of the _legilimency_. "First off, his name is Alfred Johnson. Managed to pull quite a bit of his life up actually. Aged fourty-two, went to Hogwarts – Hufflepuff, interestingly – joined the cult soon after moving back to the West Country. Bitter about certain actions that have been taken, like one cult member named Marianne, who seems to be Jethro's wife, staying in contact with him, not hunting for 'tithes' indiscriminately… and that abandoned church John and Albert mentioned? That's where they're hiding. Divert the aurors in the area around there to go join Susan in the watch. We'll go in soon."


	10. Prelude

_Jethro,_

_I'm one of the officers that met with you last Friday, and I'm writing to let you know that the information you gave really helped and aided with our investigation, but we did find a few things out that we wanted to bring up with you._

_We met with John and Albert soon after we left yours last Friday, and we found a few things out we understand you couldn't tell us at the time, but really do wish you had in the first place. First… your wife is a witch. If we knew that, we'd have dropped with the whole muggle police inspector act and just outright told you we were aurors. You're no fool, you might have already been able to tell, but still._

_Second… we know about your wife joining the cult. We're deeply, deeply sorry for that Jethro, and if you need any support from the wizarding world, all you need to do is ask; the Ministry have been a lot better about muggle spouses of witches and wizards in the past few years and you're probably entitled to her pension – converted into muggle money of course – if she worked for the Ministry, we can take care of the paperwork if you want to follow that up._

_Third… we know about the cult in general. You might have gathered that from the last part, but we know about them, how they operate, and we know the origin of your ornaments. Alfred Johnson, antique dealer in Brichester, right? We arrested him. Total nutter. In Azkaban for the rest of his life, thanks to Harry and I._

_We've got a proposition, and unfortunately it's quite a daunting one. Feel free to refuse if you wish, we will 100% understand. But we want to set up a base of operations near to your home, as we feel the cult is going to get up to some very dangerous activity in the next few days, dangerous for both the wizarding world and for the muggle world. We simply want your permission to obscure a base of operations on your land, as we knew you've got quite an extensive field as part of your property. It'd be out of sight and out of mind, we can promise. And we can also help Marianne get out of the cult… We know she has regrets._

_Again, we understand totally if you'd rather not, but we would be VERY grateful if you agreed. You can reach us just by sending your reply on to John and Albert, they'll owl us straight after. Hope to hear from you soon._

_Ron Weasley (Or DI Andy Cartwright)_

Jethro pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He should have expected the situation to get to this level, really. He'd definitely recognised the two officers, but now it clicked… he remembered their photos from Marianne's old copies of the Daily Prophet. And of course he was going to be secretive, a murder had happened outside his home and his wife was a nutter in a cult – said wife being a witch made him a bit more reticent to answer questions. Not that it stopped her visiting from time to time.

When they'd visited last week, he knew somehow that they could keep him safe, and hopefully put a halt on the cult's shadowy work, but, he knew not to be too explicit, they had ears in the walls… he wondered if that was literal, at times. By being vague, and dropping the subtle hints he had, he'd ensured the cult would start to crumble, something he'd planned since the… unfortunate death of Jon.

Jethro flinched when he heard a soft _pop_ and footsteps echo down the hall. Stuffing the letter away, he turned to the door and saw Marianne standing there, with a regretful but still slightly 'off' expression on her face.

"Afternoon love." Marianne whispered, staying in the doorway. The hood was pulled down and Jethro took a look at the woman he once… still… called his wife. That wonderful black hair, her stunning grey eyes, all that had made her so attractive to him was still there… but muted by the subtle madness.

"Afternoon Marianne." Jethro adjusted his glasses and turned in his chair, facing her fully. "What do you want from me this time? Not fit with getting me to help you murder an innocent man again?"

Marianne flinched at his venom-laced words and looked away. "Don't be like that Jethro. He's the last one… I promise you that."

"I should fuckin' hope so and all. That might be the cruellest murder your lot have ever decided to pull off. His mum has had to go to a care home, she's already getting near the end. All she had was Jon and you and the rest of those hooded fuckers took away the last thing that poor woman had. You killed two people when you took Jon last Wednesday, the second one is just taking a bit longer."

Marianne felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and she turned away, not bearing to see Jethro's disdainful look. "I know that Jethro. Believe me, I know that. I wish I hadn't come to you about it, I wish I could have just left you alone and we'd have got him a bit further down the road but the Master-"

"Fuck the Master Marianne. You've claimed all these years since you left that you love me but how true IS that? You still come back, every now and again, you want to know all about me and how Jeanette is getting on in Wales and then you want to manipulate me again. She's married now, since you forgot to ask last time. She married that lovely Angela girl. She misses you Marianne."

"Did she? Oh… I always did like Angela..." Marianne trailed off, leaning against the door frame and letting a tear fall down her face. "I… I just came because… well. Tomorrow, the Family is going to… do the ritual."

"Oh."

"Yeah… Oh."

"And how does that involve me? If you want me to be a sacrifice then fuck off. I'm not prepared to help you depraved bastards again. If you're gonna use your magic and _persuade_ me again, then kill me soon after."

"It's not like that John. Not at all. I… oh lord… do you remember… some time ago, I mentioned I had some regrets? Regrets about joining, leaving you and all that?"

"Yeah. I thought it was bollocks. Another way to get in my head and manipulate me. The sad thing is that it worked. That first time at least. You think it's going to work on me again?"

"I'm not trying to get you to do anything, or manipulate you Jethro. I meant it then and I meant it now. I really do regret joining the Family. I always have and I've… lied to myself when I stayed."

Marianne's voice cracked and this gave Jethro pause. He'd been suckered before, but she'd always been stoic, almost emotionless when it'd happened. A flash of thoughts cascaded across his mind and tugged at his heartstrings. Maybe she was telling the truth, being truly honest at last. It certainly gave him hope when the letter had mentioned her regrets… from another member of the cult, no less.

"You don't want to be a member no more? You want to… leave it behind? Come back to reality, to our family… to me?" Jethro asked, his own voice cracking.

Marianne simply nodded. "I w-w-won't stay to just talk about it. I'm going to the Ministry… I'm turning myself in Jethro. I'm going to apparate straight there and hand myself in."

"You're joking. You'd get sent straight to Azkaban!"

"I'd be willing to take that risk Jethro. Can't do it any more. Can't be a fucking pawn for that nutter any more. I just want to come home to reality. I've been lying to myself for too long Jethro. I miss you, I miss Jeanette, I miss our old life."

Jethro found himself unable to respond for a second before Marianne approached him, and cupped his face in her hands. He looked into her eyes and saw, not the stoic madness he'd always spotted in her since she first left, but for the first time in years… spotted fear. And genuine, real sorrow. Was there still some residual madness? Sadly, yes. But there was serious pain behind the madness today. He knew she meant it. But he had to be sure.

"Love… how can I know you're not just saying it? How can I be sure?!"

Marianne sighed and gave Jethro a kiss, pressing her forehead to his and starting to cry softly. "I'm going straight to the Ministry Jethro, I just told you. Walking into the lion's den, I know that. But it's turning myself in and getting Azkaban or death. And at least if I go to Azkaban I might get out."

Jethro held her tighter and felt her start to sob and heave, holding her tight to his chest and kissing the top of her head. He buried his face in her shoulder to hold her tighter, like he had for years before. It was this though that distracted him from the back door cracking open and a figure stalking in, a wand in one hand and a blade in the other…

* * *

Harry bristled with anger and frustration sat at his office desk in Grimmauld Place, reading the letter from John and Albert, with news he decidedly didn't want to hear.

_Harry,_

_We headed up to check in on Jethro… they got to him. We found him and Marianne with their throats cut and almost totally drained of blood. It seemed Marianne wanted out and the others didn't like that. We contacted some local aurors and they've got a wizarding forensics team out, I expect you'll come meet us in a few hours._

_Take as long as you need, I know this is news you'd rather not have heard. We'll meet you at Jethro's after the clean-up, we'll start planning. We need to bring that bastard cult down._

_Albert_

He slid the letter back into the envelope and took a deep breath, before throwing his tea mug against the wall with an angry shout, turning away as it shattered into dozens of pieces. He didn't hear the shuffle of footsteps until he heard a soft, calming voice whisper a "_Reparo."_ and bring all the pieces of the cup back together. Harry put his head in his hand and sighed, his frustration mixing with shades of shame.

"I wouldn't recommend doing that again Harry, that's your favourite mug." Luna said quietly, closing the door behind her. She reached out to hold his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, moving in front and fixing him with her trademark dreamy stare, almost melting Harry's tension away in an instant. "Took me a while to paint the Gryffindor emblem on the side."

"Yeah… sorry about that sweets. Got some… let's say unpleasant news about the case. You remember the bloke we interviewed last Friday? Gave us the leads?"

"Oh, the auld fellow?"

Harry nodded and said solemnly "Yeah. They got him. Must have been some time this morning."

Luna's face turned from dreamy to sad and she gave him a hug, squeezing round his waist and burying her face in his chest. "That's horrible Harry."

Harry kissed the top of her head and hugged her back. "I know… he didn't deserve that. I fucking hate this job sometimes."

"Somehow I don't blame you sweetie. Are you going to tell his family? If any are around, of course?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Once everything's wrapped up, I'm going to visit his daughter and tell her myself. Umm… Luna?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm… I'm scared. Tomorrow is going to be a big-scale operation… very VERY dangerous. To be 100% honest with you, I'm absolutely terrified. Ron and I are almost definitely going to get hurt and I know that that is going to worry you and Hermione beyond all belief. I'm sorry for putting-"

"Shh." Luna pressed a finger to his lips and stopped him. "Don't say sorry. It's your job, dealing with dark and horrid things and I accepted that when we got together. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried but that doesn't change things. You and Ronald are doing good for the world and you and I both know that doing good things sometimes comes with dangerous consequences. Plus, it means another night sleeping in the St Mungo's bed."

Harry let out a short chuckle at this and he held Luna tighter. He knew it was cliché to think, but he couldn't help but say that Luna calmed him, knew him better than practically anyone else. He kissed the top of her head again and whispered a simple, quiet "Thank you sweets."

"No problem. You've got a while before you have to go in… Ronald went to work early with Hermione, so we have some time to ourselves. Want to go have breakfast and cuddle for a bit until you leave?"

Harry gave her a short kiss and nodded. "God yeah. I fancy eggs on toast. We still have some eggs?"

"Only three… Ronald had a large breakfast. I bought a twelve-pack when I went shopping yesterday – that man eats like a bloody horse."

* * *

Nathaniel stalked into the crypt, his knife still wet with blood and two vials full strapped to his belt, a smug, satisfied grin on his face. Rapping his knuckles on the open door he saw Vincent hunched over a book, mumbling to himself. Nathaniel cleared his throat and spoke up. "Master? I have a gift for the ritual tonight."

Vincent grunted and beckoned Nathaniel into the room, not turning from the book. He was slowly starting to become more of the beast he was destined; his body had become almost entirely covered by the faint white fur that covered the other cleric beasts, the growths on his head had managed to grow too big for the hood on his cloak, and…

Nathaniel walked in front of the Vincent-man and was about to rattle off his proud achievement until he took in the sight of his master's face; he had plucked his own eyes out, the wound still fresh and the blood dripping into the pages. Stunned into silence, he stood as still as a statue until the Vincent...thing, rose, a smile revealing the fangs that had grown considerably since the last time the Vincent-thing was seen. They now prevented his mouth from closing fully, and his deep, ragged breaths came as he literally poured over the paper, seeing something that his 'eyes' could not.

"**Scared, are we Nathaniel?**" he growled, his tone now bestial as well as flat, guttural as well as plain. "**This is simply the start. By tonight, I will have become one with the power the Hunter has blessed me with, and the ****world shall know Their glory at last. Surely you should know how a person transforms, you've been with the family for many a decade… you were there when my mother transformed.**"

"But… Master. Th-the transformation last time was more… subdued. It happened on the night itself, when-"

"**When the moon itself rose. I am very familiar with the day Nathaniel. Very familiar. I believe the nature of my own transformation, my ascension, is due to the very nature of tonight. As I mentioned, tonight is special. It is the first time in many a century that the stars have aligned as right as they have, and it is why we may be able to bring an avatar of the Hunter's will into this world at long last. It is in this very book...**" he pointed to the pages with a long fingernail, or claw, and ran it along a line in a language lost to all but those gifted with the power of insight, the blood splatters doing little to obscure the writing. "**...that the process was last detailed. Of course, it was stopped rather handily by a militia of ex-Roman citizens, but no such issue will befall us tonight. I can feel stirrings in the shadows, signs we are being watched by the Ministry of Magic and its pawns Potter and Weasley… they have a chance to stop us, no question. But we have raw might. Raw, primordial power. The power from beyond… from deep in the void.**"


End file.
